Repressed
by obsessedwithstuff
Summary: After Italy plucks up the courage to confess his love to Germany, a certain incident brings back some unwanted memories to him. Shaken and scared, Italy doesn't know how to deal with this knew knowledge. Crap at summaries. GerIta obviously. COMPLETED.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The city of Rome glittered in the evening air. The sun had set and every single light shone in its own unique brightness. The entire city glowed with an aura of beauty. The coliseum could be seen clearly, standing out from the rest of the ancient city. Its age and magnificence was being displayed in all its glory. The old city stood out too. Although its light was dimmer than the rest, it was still just as breathtaking. Looking at the view, one could almost hear the bustling crowds; the back street cafes and the flamboyant Italians expressing their language as though it was superior to everything else. One could almost smell the amazing variety of aromas erupting from the extravagant city.

Italy's eye sparkled as he watched his capital; the heart of him and his brother. He looked over it once, taking in everything he saw with a huge heart, before turning back to the man standing next to him, glowing himself brighter than the sun he was so proud.

"It truly is... _wunderschön_." Italy's smile widened – if that was even possible – when the words were spoken.

"Ve~ it is, isn't it?" Italy replied, although he wasn't looking at the view.

_Now's the time, _Italy's mind told him, _the perfect time to tell him. The reason you both came up here. The reason you invited him over a day earlier than the rest. You'll never get another chance like this. You have to do it or you'll regret it for the rest of your life._

"But I'm scared," Italy whispered. He was staring at his hands now, fidgeting and fiddling with them. Perspiration had gathered on his forehead and his hands were beginning to feel clammy. His usual shining smile had disappeared for the moment.

"Huh?" The sound of another's voice made him jump. He looked up at his friend and managed a strained smile.

"Ve~? Oh, nothing."

_Now's the time. _He had to stop being a coward and gather up some courage...at least for now.

"Hey, Germany?"

"Hmmm. What?" He seemed distracted, probably by the picturesque view.

"You know, there's another reason I brought you up here," Italy said cryptically. Germany looked at him, an intrigued look on his face. Italy had his full attention now.

"Really? Why?" Italy paused, unsure how to word what he wanted to say.

"I-I wanted to tell you something."

"Tell me what?" Germany asked. Italy paused once again. He fidgeted a little under Germany's firm gaze.

"I wanted to tell you...it's just that..." Italy took a deep breath, readying himself. "I-I-I think I'm...in love with you, Germany." Italy's words were barely audible and if they were standing on a busy street they would have been lost to the noise. But they weren't. They were standing on a quiet hillside and the bustling streets of Rome lay far below. Germany heard the words as clear as day. He looked back out to the view.

"_Ja_. I know that, Italy. Best friends forever, _riche_?" Germany answered, feeling uncomfortable as he usually did when Italy displayed too much affection.

"No, Germany. I mean it. I know we're BFF's but I want to be...more...than..." Italy trailed off, his eyes focusing on his hands again. He hoped Germany would understand what he meant. He should. He's usually really smart.

"I-ah, you're kidding, right? ... You're joking." Germany began to laugh nervously. "I will never understand Italian humour," he muttered to himself.

By the sound of Germany's voice and laugh Italy could tell he wanted it to be a joke.

An unbearable pain erupted in Italy's chest. It felt like his heart had been ripped into a million pieces. Germany didn't want him. That was that. Tears stung at the edge of his eyes but he forced them back. He had to be strong in front of Germany. He knew if he so much as looked at Germany he wouldn't be able to stop the tears.

_At least it's not so bad, _Italy thought in a futile attempt to reassure himself, _Germany still wants to be your friend and that's got to count for something, right?_

Italy realised Germany was still laughing and began to laugh with him, but it even sounded fake and forced to his ears.

"Right. A joke." Italy's voice trembled as he spoke and it broke on the last word. He mentally kicked himself for even speaking. It was obvious now he hadn't been joking.

Germany had stopped laughing. Italy cautiously turned his head so he was staring into his shining, blue eyes. They portrayed no emotion but Italy could see understanding in them. He knew. Italy quickly looked back at the view, finding it much more comforting right now. He wouldn't cry.

He heard Germany sigh from beside him. "It wasn't a joke, was it?" Italy said nothing in reply. He simply stared out over his capital, not trusting his voice this time. There was silence between the two. Something glinted on Italy's cheek, glistening from light of Rome. It slowly slid down and dropped off his chin. The pain in Italy's chest persisted, making more and more tears spill from his eyes and down his cheeks. It seamed to him right now that just smiling – something he did every second of the day usually – was an impossible feat.

At length, Germany sighed again, breaking the unbearable silence on the hillside. Italy felt a strong hand grip his face. It pulled him so he was facing Germany again. He couldn't see Germany's expression, his view having been blurred by tears.

"Here." Germany said. He bent down and gently kissed Italy.

Italy was so shocked by Germany's action that he could nothing but stand there. He let Germany tenderly press his lips to his, enjoying the soft feeling of them. He closed his eyes. It felt so right for it to be like this. He felt the hand that had been gripping his face slowly loosen its grip and make its way to his cheek, round the back of his head and through his hair, pulling him even closer to Germany. His smell surrounded Italy's senses, filling his nostrils and his head so he could think of nothing else. It made feel dizzy, or maybe that was just from the lack of air. Italy didn't care if it was. He had dreamt of this moment for so long and he never wanted it to end.

Unfortunately though, after a few minutes Germany pulled away, his eyes never leaving Italy's. His breathing was quick and heavy. He felt hot and his heart was pounding in his chest at a million miles a minute. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, making him go deep red. "Ve~" was all he could muster but the huge smile on face showed more then any words could say. Germany smiled, gently caressing Italy's cheek.

"_Ich liebe dich, _Italy." Germany's cheeks went slightly pink as he said the words. A warm feeling spread through Italy's chest. His smile grew infinitely wider.

"You really mean it?" Italy asked and when Germany nodded in response he couldn't believe it. He had been so convinced that Germany didn't want him that it felt like a dream. He threw his arms around Germany's neck, burying his face in it and laughing breathlessly. He felt Germany tense up a little beneath him – how he usually did when Italy displayed too much affection – but he ignored it. He was just too happy. To say it was a dream come true was a massive understatement.

"I love you." Italy whispered into Germany's ear.

**First Hetalia fanfiction. Hope you like it. It's kinda mostly fluff and stuff but I'm thinking of continuing it. That's if you like it.**

**Please review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_I want to dedicate this chapter to __TorchwoodFallenAngel because she gave_ _me the idea for the story. _

Chapter 2

"I think I'm in love with you, Germany."

When Italy had said those words, Germany's heart stopped beating. It couldn't be. Italy had always acted sentimental towards him but he never would have guessed it meant...this.

Although, Italy had said that he loved him before, just as he had said it to Italy before, but it hadn't meant anything at the time. What if he was just saying that now, in a meaningless manner? He had to check.

"No, Germany. I mean it. I know we're BFF's but I want to be...more...than..." Italy trailed off. He was looking at his hands again, fiddling with them nervously. Germany could just about make out the red tint in his cheeks. He was serious.

Germany could do nothing but stare at in shock. The pounding of his heart in his ears was all he could hear. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He couldn't think of anything to say. Italy...loved him? Italy...Italy couldn't love him. Italy had always gone after cute girls. It didn't make sense.

"I-ah, you're kidding, right? ... You're joking." He was joking. Yes, of course he was. That was the only explanation. Germany began to laugh nervously. "I will never understand Italian humour," he muttered to himself.

Italy began laughing too and at first Germany was convinced – the whole thing _was_ a joke – but as he listened closer he noticed it didn't sound like Italy's usual smooth, innocent laugh. It sounded forced and completely fake.

"Right. A joke." Italy's voice trembled as he spoke and it broke on the last word. He sounded like he was on the brink of crying. Italy had never been very good at lying nor hiding his feelings. Germany could read him like a book. Whether he was happy, sad or scared, or if he was trying to hide his feelings, Germany could tell.

Italy turned to Germany. His sweet, chocolate brown eyes were filled deep with hurt and sadness. His usual bright smile had vanished. Germany sighed.

"It wasn't a joke, was it?" Italy said nothing in reply. Something glinted on Italy's cheek, glistening from light of Rome. It slowly slid down and dropped off his chin.

Germany was an idiot. He had hurt Italy; broken his heart even. He hadn't even been thinking about the impact his words would have on Italy. He had confessed his love to him and Germany had just rejected him, shot him down. How could such a foolish thing have even escaped his lips?

And all because Germany couldn't accept that he had feelings for Italy in return.

Italy was crying harder now. He wasn't sobbing but more and more tears were spilling down his cheeks. There was only one way to fix the damage he had done.

Germany plucked up his courage. "Here," he said. He reached out his hand and grabbed Italy's face, pulling it so Italy was facing him. Before the ginger could even had a chance to react Germany bent down and kissed him gently on the lips.

The feeling of Italy's lips against his own was a million times better than any dream he'd had. They felt soft and warm. Everything about it was intoxicating. Without thinking about it, the hand that had been gripping Italy's face loosened, making its way round the back of Italy's head and through his hair, pulling him even closer to Germany.

After a few minutes, Germany pulled away. He felt flustered; his cheeks were flushed and his breathing was hard and fast. The violent pounding of his heart was all he could hear. Italy looked pretty much the same way. In fact, he looked worse off.

"Ve~" Germany smiled and gently caressed Italy's bright red cheek. He looked so innocent and vulnerable.

" _Ich liber dich, _Italy." If it was even possible Italy's shining smile widened.

"You really mean it?" he asked. Germany nodded and, without any warning, Italy flung his arms around the blonde's neck. Germany tensed up, feeling a little uncomfortable with Italy's sudden display of affection, but couldn't help but relax when Italy whispered the everlasting words into his ear.

"I love you."

The next hour was spent in each other's arms. They spoke little, just sat on the hillside, enjoying the view and each other's company. Italy lay his head on Germany's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. A smile was plastered on his lips every second they were together. Germany had his hand slipped around Italy's waist, pulling them even closer together. Neither wanted to let go; neither wanted the moment to end. It felt like it wouldn't until Italy suddenly announced that he was hungry. Germany glanced at his watch, frowning.

"Eight thirty-five. Is it too late to eat at a restaurant?" Germany asked. Italy looked out across the city thoughtfully. Germany couldn't help but think he looked unbearably cute as he pondered. He desperately wanted to lean in and kiss him again.

_Why not?_ he thought. But before he got the chance Italy stood up, a bright smile spreading across his face.

"Ve~ I've got the perfect idea!" He smiled at his seated friend. He held out his hand in offer to help in to feet. Germany accepted.

"What?"

"Well, you could come over to my house and I could make you dinner. I've got plenty of pasta at home that I could quickly boil up. If you want to, I could even put sausages in the sauce, just for you." Italy was so excited about the idea that he proceeded to grab Germany's hands and jump up and down with them. Germany wasn't quite as enthusiastic. He wasn't even that fond of pasta.

"Well, I-"

"Come on. Let's go!" Italy, still holding on to one of Germany's hands, ran down the hillside. He dragged Germany, going much too fast for the blonde to cope, all the way down, muttering as he went.

"Italy-!"

"and I'll put in basil and oregano and maybe even some thyme. That goes with tomatoes, right? Oh wait, what if it doesn't go with sausages?"

"Italy...please slow down!"

"Ve~ Do I even have sausages in the kitchen? I never really eat them and Romano hates them. But he does sometimes serve them when Spain comes over. I'll have to see if there's any left."

The pair continued like this down most of the hill. Italy eventually slowed down, as the he tired himself out from running, but he didn't stop muttering to himself. Germany could barely get a word in. He didn't mind though. He thought it was cute the way Italy put so much work into his cooking. Plus, he was quite flattered that it was all for him. He smiled to himself, thinking about how well this evening had gone. Nothing could ruin this night.

Germany leant back in his chair and sighed. He was stuffed.

"I have to admit, that was pretty good."

"You really mean it, Germany?" Italy asked as he stood up and collected the plates. "I made especially for you." He dumped the plates in the sink and went back to the table. Germany felt a little urge to get up and clean the plates – you couldn't just leave dirty plates to fester in the sink like that – but he ignored it.

"Yeah. You should make it more often. It was delicious." Italy smiled brightly at the compliment.

"Come on." Italy gestured for Germany to follow before disappearing into the living room. Germany was still feeling full so he waited a few moments before following. He still didn't understand how Italy could eat so much and still be able to bounce around like he did. He walked in to the living room to find Italy fiddling with the TV.

"Italy?" At the sound of Germany's voice Italy jumped three feet in the air. He dropped a pile DVD's he'd been holding and they clattered onto the floor. Germany couldn't help but laugh at this.

"Germany! I didn't hear you come in." The ginger laughed along Germany, bending down to pick up the DVD's and put them back on the shelf.

"I thought we could watch a DVD," Italy said once he'd finished tidying up the mess. He held up one DVD with a huge smile on his face.

"_Cinema Paridiso?" _Germany read from the case.

"Uh huh. It's my favourite film. It's in Italian but we can put German subtitles on if you want." Germany thought about this for a moment. This didn't really look like his sort of film...but, if he watched the movie, it would give him a chance to spend more time with Italy. The simple thought of that made him smile.

"_Ja,_" he said in reply and took a seat on the sofa. Italy came to join him after he'd put the DVD in player. He asked Germany if they should have the lights off and the blonde agreed.

The pair sat on the sofa in the dark and, as the film began, Italy made himself comfortable by hugging on to Germany's arm and resting his head on his shoulder. Germany felt his heart beat speed up. Italy sighed happily and snuggled up to his Germany. The blonde let his eyes slip from the TV screen and to Italy's head. His soft ginger hair fell onto his face in light flicks. Germany smiled, for once appreciating how cute Italy's little curl was. Without realising what he was doing, Germany's hand slipped up to Italy's hair. Italy looked up.

"Ve~? What are you doing, Germany?" he asked. Germany stared down at Italy. His chocolate brown eyes reflected the light of the TV screen. Germany thought it seemed to make his eyes sparkle.

"Italy," was all Germany could say. He leaned down to Italy and pressed his lips firmly against his. The world around them stood still. Italy's hand felt for the remote. He found it and pressed the stop button. Germany's hand snaked its way through the ginger's hair. He leaned down over Italy and kissed him harder still. The thumping in Germany's chest started to beat wildly out of control. His body pressed over Italy's and Germany could hear _his _heart beating. Germany's other hand slipped into Italy's. Their fingers interlocked. Germany felt his cheeks burn. Sweat gathered on his forehead. Italy's hand made its way through Germany's stiff blonde hair and loosened it, making limp strands fall away. Germany suddenly felt Italy's tongue dance over his lips, begging access to his mouth. Germany granted it. Their tongues locked. Germany pulled away slightly, giving them both a chance to breath. It came in short, heavy blasts. Italy's breath engulfed Germany, making him feel dizzy from the intoxicating smell. He bit down on Italy's lower lip. He heard Italy moan. Germany's lips returned to Italy's. One of Germany's hands ran through the back of Italy's soft hair, pulling him in closer. Their lips pressed harder together and the kiss deepened. Their tongues danced. Italy's hand caressed Germany's face.

Before he knew what he was doing, Germany's hand had made its way down to Italy's trousers. Something nagged at the back of his mind but he ignored it, his goal already set. He fiddled with the trouser button, trying to pry it open at the same time as lengthening his kiss with Italy. It wouldn't budge. He broke away from Italy momentarily and looked down in an effort to see what he was doing. It was futile. The room was practically pitch black.

"Germany..." Italy whispered his name into his ear. It made Germany shiver.

"Italy," Germany whispered. He brought both hands down to the button and it finally slipped open. Germany's fingers gripped the zip.

"No! Germany! Please stop! Get off. Right now," Italy screamed. He pushed hard against Germany's chest. Germany looked up at Italy. From the dim light of the TV he could see a panicked look on his face. "Germany, please! GET OFF!" Germany sat up quickly and turned on the lamp beside the sofa, feeling alarmed at Italy's sudden demand. His eyes never left the ginger's.

In the brighter light, Germany saw that Italy was trembling violently. His arms were wrapped around his torso, as though trying to keep himself warm. The panicked expression was still on his face. His eyes were squeezed shut and tears were forming at the edges and streaking down his cheeks. Sobs erupted from his throat. There no colour in his skin at all.

"Italy, are you alright?" Germany reached out his hand to help his friend but Italy slapped it away yelling "No!" as he did so. Germany retracted his arm and watched helplessly as the ginger attempted to calm himself down.

After what seemed like forever to Germany, Italy seemed...better. The sobbing had subsided, although tears still rolled down his cheeks, and a little colour had returned to his face. He slowly edged his way into a sitting position. He rested his head in one trembling hand while the other remained wrapped around his torso. He was hunched over so Germany couldn't see his face.

"Italy, I-"

"You should go," Italy said bluntly. His voice held no emotion. He didn't look up to meet Germany's confused eyes nor did he offer any explanation. The blonde rested his hand on Italy's shoulder in a comforting gesture but he flinched away.

"If I did something wr-"

"Just go." Germany took one last desperate look at Italy but his soft, ginger hair covering his face made it impossible to read anything. He was torn. He didn't want to leave his friend like this but...

Germany got up and walked over to the door. He glanced over his shoulder. Italy hadn't even moved an inch. He sighed, opened the door and stepped into the night air, leaving Italy behind him.

**Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It had all started off so well. Germany had enjoyed the meal and they had begun watching his favourite movie. They had been snuggled up on the sofa when Germany had stroked him on the head. Italy looked up into his bright blue eyes.

"Ve~? What are you doing, Germany?" he asked. Germany stared deep into his eyes so intensely it made Italy blush slightly.

"Italy," Germany mumbled, before leaning down pressing his lips to Italy's. At first he was locked into place, unable to move, but as the kiss continued the world seemed to melt around them and everything became very natural. He fumbled for the TV remote, pressing the stop button once he found it. Italy felt Germany lean down over him. Italy sunk deep into the sofa beneath the blonde. His hand made its way through the stiff blonde hair and pulled strands of it free. Italy suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline, telling him to push further. His tongued ached to be wrapped around Germany's. Italy opened his mouth and his tongue slithered across Germany's strong lips. Their tongues met as Germany granted access to his mouth. Germany pulled away giving Italy time to catch his breath. Then Germany's teeth sunk lightly into his lip. A small moan escaped Italy's lips. Then the blonde's mouth returned to his. Again their tongues danced. Italy put his hand to Germany's face, caressing it, feeling the strength in his jaw. Italy felt Germany's hand slip down to his trousers. The blonde broke away momentarily and shifted up slightly. Italy glanced downwards and saw, in the darkness of the room, that Germany was attempting to undo his trouser button.

Suddenly, the blood drained from Italy's face. A sickening feeling settled at the bottom of his stomach.

"Germany..." Italy whispered his name into his ear.

"Italy."

_Italy took a seat on the soft sofa, sinking down into it. He was so excited to be here. He hadn't visited his big brother in ages. The sofa rose up a little as someone sat down forcefully beside him. He looked to his left and smiled brightly._

"_You're so unbelievably cute, Italy!" France beamed, tussling Italy's hair. Italy glowed. He loved it when people called him cute, especially his big brothers. France laughed. He took his hand out of Italy's hair and slid it around Italy's shoulder. Italy looked at France's hand. What was he doing? What he trying to comfort him? A slender finger placed it's self on Italy's chin, pulling his head to face in the opposite direction. Italy blinked, finding France's face only inches away from his own. There was a loving smile on it. Italy naively burst into a massive grin._

"_Sometimes it's hard to find people like that," he told Italy in a much softer voice than before. One of France's hands ran through Italy's hair. Italy's eyebrow's furrowed in confusion, not understanding what France was getting at._

"_What-" but Italy was cut off as France suddenly pushed down him down on his back on the sofa. Both his hands were placed either side of Italy's head and he loomed over Italy, his loving smile now seeming much more creepy from Italy's point of view. His long blonde hair fell either side of his face. He glanced over Italy's body once, his eyes lingering on the lower half of him. Italy whimpered, covering his body with his hands without thinking. Unfortunately, this just made him look more innocent and vulnerable. _

"_Big brother, I don't-"_

"_Shhhh." France cut him off by laying two fingers on Italy's lips, before gently caressing his face."Don't say a word. Big brother will take care of it." _

_France leant his head down and planted a soft kiss on Italy's overly exposed neck. The blonde laughed disturbingly before sticking his tongue and licking it. Italy whimpered again and squeezed his eyes shut. He was scared. He didn't why – he didn't know what France was doing – but it didn't feel right. He just wanted to get as far away as possible. He could feel tears started to pool in his eyes and drip down the side off his face. _

"_Don't cry, my little Italy." Italy felt a hand wipe away a tear that trickled down his face. He rapidly shook his head from side to side, batting France's hand away weakly._

"_N-no!" he stuttered but it didn't deter France in the slightest. The hand Italy batted away was placed on his chest. Then it slowly slid down his body, only stopping once it reached his crotch. Italy looked down to see France tugging at his trouser button. _

_The tears started to come quicker down Italy's face. He pushed hard on France, trying to get him to stop, but France simply ignored him as if he were a fly. _

"_B-big broth...France?" he started meekly. "Stop...please stop." France ignored him once again. He succeeded in undoing the button. He pulled down the zip, a huge smile on his face. His hand slipped down Italy's pants._

"_NO!" Italy screamed, bringing his knees up in an effort to protect himself. His knee cap smashed hard into something. He heard France shriek in pain. The hand drew away suddenly. Italy opened his eyes a crack; unsure what was happening. He saw France covering his crotch with his hand and cursing violently, his face warped into a pained expression._

_Italy saw what may have been the only chance. He quickly rolled off the sofa and slammed into the floor. His face hit the ground first. He tried to crawl away, ignoring the throbbing in his nose, but felt a hand wrap around his ankle. He breathing quickened. His heart beat was all he could hear. He didn't look behind him, already knowing what it was._

"_Italy, wait-"_

"_Let go!" Italy yelled, fiercely kicking behind him in attempts to loosen Frances grip. It did. Italy ran._

"_No! Ita-" the door was shut behind him before France could finish his sentence. Italy ran as far as he could away from the house, not looking back._

Italy was suddenly back in the darkened room. Germany lay on top of him, confiding Italy to the sofa. He suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic. He looked down just in time to see Germany open the button on his trousers. The blood drained from Italy's face.

"No! Germany! Please stop! Get off. Right now," Italy screamed. He pushed hard against Germany's chest, trying to force space between them. "Germany, please! GET OFF!"

Finally, Germany sat up. Italy saw a bright light through his closed eyes, telling him Germany had turned on the light. The ginger trembled in shock. Sobs erupted from his throat and he couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around himself protectively. It wasn't very effective but it made him feel better, even if it was only the slightest bit.

"Italy, are you alright?"

"No!" Italy screamed, slapping away Germany's outstretched hand.

A million questions ran through Italy's scared brain. How could France do that? How could _he_ let France do that? He felt so dirty and ashamed. Just because France hadn't gotten all the way didn't mean he hadn't had intentions to. The thoughts had been running through his big brother's twisted mind. He didn't want anyone to look at him right now; especially Germany. _Germany?_ He was here, wasn't here? Upon this realisation Italy attempted to gather himself together.

Once he felt more stable, he slowly sat up. He placed his head in his hand as an excuse to hide face. He was too ashamed to let Germany see him like this.

"Italy, I-"

"You should go," Italy said flatly. His voice sounded steadier than he felt. The blonde placed a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture but Italy shrugged it off. How could Germany even touch him? Admittedly, Germany didn't know. But if he ever found out he would hate Italy. Hate him and never want to touch him again.

"If I did something wr-"

"Just go." The words obviously had an impact on him as he finally got off the sofa. Italy ignored the disappointed feeling he got as this happened. He heard the door open and slam shut. He flinched. He wanted to tell Germany about what happened but...but...

Italy needed a shower. He needed to get rid off this dirty feeling.

**Sorry this took so long but I actually really lost track of time and before I knew it, it had been a week. Hope you enjoy. The next chapter will be quite long so it should make up for shortness of this one. Please Review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Repressed memories. That was the conclusion Italy had come to after an hour or so of searching on the internet. Apparently after something traumatic happens to you, your brain can't deal with the stress of that memory and so represses it. Then, sometimes the memory can be revived by some sort of trigger. At least, that the internet had told him.

Italy sighed as he walked down the corridor of the hotel. The G8 meeting was to be held in this hotel. He really hadn't wanted to come – to call in sick or something – but he was the host country and so it was sort of his responsibility. He just wanted a shower. He still couldn't escape that dirty feeling.

The main worry that was running through his mind was Germany. The blonde had been on his mind almost every second since he'd left the house. What was he going to say to him? Should he explain what happened or say something else? He really owed Germany the truth but he didn't know how he was going to react. He loved him too much to loose him now, after one night together. What would he think of Italy, having let _that _happen to him? Italy shuddered.

The ginger stopped and looked up. He had reached the meeting room. Voices echoed from inside the room. He sighed and laid a hand on the door handle.

"Italy?" The voice that came from behind Italy made him jump a little. He span around to see who it was.

"Germany?" he asked, as if trying to confirm it himself. A huge smile split across his face. "Germany!" He desperately wanted throw his arms around his best friend – if that's even what he was anymore – but thought better of it after the seeing the look on Germany's face. His face was forced into its usual mask, portraying little emotion. Italy couldn't help feel a little sting in his heart at this. He usually relaxed his mask around Italy.

"Italy. I assume you're feeling better."

"Yeah. I'm feeling much better. Thanks for asking." It wasn't entirely a lie. He was feeling a lot better since it happened. Italy smiled at Germany, hoping to relax him a little. Italy could tell he was feeling uncomfortable. Germany suddenly looked down at his feet and began fidgeting.

"Listen, I wanted to apologise for...the other night," Germany began, purposely avoiding Italy's eyes. "I went too far and...I'm sorry. Next time...next time I'll take it slower. I promise." Germany finally looked up and Italy stared into his blue eyes intently. He could see guilt deep within them. Did Germany really think this was his fault?

"Ve~ what are you talking about? It wasn't your fault I reacted like that. Well, maybe it was a little but you shouldn't feel guilty about it. It was something completely different that made me act the way I did. Anyway, it's not that I don't like making out with you. I really want to, you know, make love with you but..." Italy realised he was rambling again and immediately shut his mouth, feeling his cheeks turn slightly pink.

"It really wasn't my fault?" Italy saw Germany relax completely as he nodded. The hardness in his eyes disappeared, being replaced by the soft, shining ones Italy was used to. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Italy, on the other hand, had a huge grin on his face.

There was a moment of silence between the two. Italy got a good look at Germany for the first time. He was wearing a very hansom black suit with a red tie. His beautiful, blonde hair was gelled back into its usual neat hairstyle. Italy's heart swelled to twice its size as he looked at him.

After a moment, Italy took a cautious step forward, closing the unnecessary space between them. He gently wrapped his arms around Germany's neck, ignoring how the blonde tensed up as he did so. Unfortunately though, no matter how much Italy stood on his tip-toes, his lips didn't quite reach Germany's. He sighed and instead decided to compliment the blonde.

"Ve~ you look really hansom in that suit, Germany." Germany blushed, smiling sweetly and wrapping his arms around Italy's waist. Italy laughed and snuggled his face into Germany's chest, for a moment forgetting about that awful ashamed feeling he constantly had now. But it was still at the back of his mind. He didn't think it would ever go away.

"Err...other people are trying to get into the meeting too, you know."

A certain British person's voice broke through Italy's perfect moment. He sighed but didn't look up to confirm who it was. He didn't want this moment to end. Unfortunately though, the blonde in his arms had other ideas.

"Your right. There is a time and place to do this and it isn't here," Germany said, unwinding his arms from around Italy's waist. Italy frowned and looked up to Germany desperately, making a small whimpering noise as he did. The blonde apparently didn't get the message and carried on breaking them apart by lifting his hands up and untying Italy from his neck. Italy pouted.

"Ve~! But Germany-"

"Ahhh, come on _Allemagne. _It was just getting to the good bit." Italy froze. Cold, hard terror rattled through him. He could recognise that smooth voice anywhere.

"Stop being a pervert, France." Italy forced his head to turn to the left, needing to confirm what he already knew was true. It stiffly obeyed. Two blonde men stood about ten feet away; one with bushy eyebrows and wearing an annoyed frown and the other with long, flowing hair and creepy smile on his face. Italy forgot how to breathe when his eyes rested on the latter. Everything in him wanted to run away, screaming in horror, from the scene but his legs wouldn't move. They had turned to jelly. The sound of his rapidly pounding heart was all he could hear.

"Italy?" The ginger's head snapped at the sound of Germany's voice. During Italy's internal freak out, he had managed to back away from him a few steps. He looked at Italy worriedly. Italy just squeaked and instantly flung his arms around Germany, hugging him tightly. Only when he was next to the love of his life did he feel brave enough to not run away. Germany would protect him. Always.

"We'll just leave you too lovers alone then."

"The meeting's going to start in fifteen minutes, so don't take too long."

"But England,it only takes fifteen minutes. You of all people should know that..." Their voices faded away as they walked into meeting room, leaving Italy and Germany alone. As soon as Italy heard the door close, he relaxed, knowing now that a door separated him from France.

Although his fear had essentially vanished when France left, he still felt shaken up. His heart pounded hard in his chest and his breathing was ragged. He tried to force back the tears that came to his eyes and, as he finally untangled himself and took a step back, he could see himself trembling. He let out a shaky breath of relief.

A finger placed itself on Italy's chin and lifted his head up so he was looking at Germany. His shining, blue eyes were filled with concern. Italy's breath hitched in his throat. Germany was worried about him. Italy felt blood rush to his cheeks, tinting them a rosy red colour.

"Are you alright?" asked Germany. Italy nodded.

"I-I'm fine," Italy stammered, although it didn't sound at all convincing. He mentally kicked himself for even speaking.

"Are you sure? To me it looked like you were scared."

"I'm fine now." His voice sounded steadier this time and it wasn't entirely a lie. Germany's displayed concern for him had made him feel a little better. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Germany obviously got the message because he let the subject drop – as well his hand to Italy's disappointment – although Italy could noted the 'for now' look on his face. Germany then stepped round Italy and headed for the wooden doors.

_I will tell him,_ Italy thought as he followed Germany into the meeting room, _just not now._ He had known he was going to tell Germany as soon as he had looked into those shining, blue eyes of his. He couldn't keep something this big from him. Not if they were planning to be together. Plus he was terrible at keeping secrets anyway.

When Italy entered the room, he immediately scanned the room, looking for France. His blood ran cold when he spotted him by the coffee table conversing with England. Italy immediately headed in the other direction, grabbing Germany's hand and dragging him along wit him. The ginger reached the end of the long table and slumped down in the chair, letting out a long sigh. The meeting hadn't even started yet and he already felt exhausted. Germany gave him a questioning look but said nothing.

As Italy looked around, he saw that all the other nations appeared to be here. Italy sighed again. Even after all his efforts, he had still arrived later than most of the others. He quickly spotted Japan next to America and a smile spread across his face.

"Japan!" he called, waving at the Asian nation. Japan looked at the two of them, exchanged a few final words with America and came over to join them.

"Konichiwa Italy. Germany," he greeted, bowing his head slightly to them both.

"Hey Japan! How are you? I would hug you but I know you don't like that. You should really learn to like hugs more. They're really fun," Italy rambled, his usual cheery tone of returning. He found that being around his friends always made him feel better, even if he still felt deathly ashamed on the inside. He could put on an act for them. He didn't want them to worry.

"Yes, I appreciate you not invading my personal bubble," Japan answered quietly.

"Oh! That reminds me. Have you heard the news?"

"Err..."

"Of course you haven't heard it. That was stupid of me to ask. Unless Germany told you." Italy turned to his frie- boyfriend. "Did you tell Japan about us?" Germany blinked, having trouble keeping up with Italy's rapid speech.

"No."

"Ve~ you should tell him then," Italy cheered, literally bouncing up and down from the excitement. Germany smiled and blushed a little. Italy's smile grew broader. He loved seeing Germany smile. He should do it more often.

"Erm...why don't you do it, Italy?"

"Ve~? Really? Okay!" Italy turned back to Japan and grabbed his hands. He tried to keep still but the anticipation was too much for Italy to hold in. "The other night I...I told Germany that I loved him!"

At first Italy didn't notice the silence, he was to excited waiting on Japan's reaction, but eventually he looked up to see everyone else in the room at stopped their conversations and were looking in his direction. When they met his eye's they had enough shame to look away but Italy still knew they had easily heard his last sentence.

Italy's face went deep red in utter embarrassment. He looked to Germany for help, only to find the blonde covering his face with his in shame and muttering something his native language. Italy buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he muttered so that only Japan and Germany could hear. He wasn't aware that everyone else had awkwardly returned to their previous conversation.

"It's fine, Italy. It was simply an accident." Japan patted Italy's shoulder comfortingly as he spoke the words. The ginger involuntarily flinched at his friend's gesture but didn't reject it. He just smiled at Japan before looking back at to Germany apologetically. He saw the German's eyes soften as Italy's rested on his.

"Just try to keep your voice down from now on." Italy took this as an 'apology accepted' and his smile widened once again. He took a hold of Germany's hand, squeezing slightly as a silent thank you. He saw a blush appear on the blonde's face. Italy entwined their fingers.

"I knew you two were close and all but, bloody hell, I didn't realise you were in love!" The mood was shattered, again, by England's thick accent. Ugh! Why did he keep ruining his perfect moments with Germany? He looked up to him and immediately froze. He should have expected it but it still came as a massive shock. When he saw France walking towards them with England, he felt his blood run ice cold. He let out a whimper.

He wanted France to stop walking, to stay away from him. He wanted a white flag to wave. He wanted to run away. He wanted to get some courage. Not a lot but enough to be able to stand next to France without his heart beating wildly out of control. He wanted...he wanted...he wanted Germany to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. But upon thinking this he realized that the blonde had let go of his hand. Italy was all alone.

France was in front of Italy now. His shadow cast over Italy, sending shivers down his spine. The twisted smile on his face made Italy's legs shake uncontrollably. His pounding heart was all he could hear.

"Good for you for finally telling him, Italy" When France placed his hand on Italy's shoulder it pushed him over the edge. Before he knew what he was doing he was running, the adrenaline propelling his legs to do nothing else. He pushed past everyone and headed straight for the door. He burst through it and sprinted down the hallway, not looking back for anything. He just needed to get as far away as possible.

**This chapter ended up being really long (I do that quite a lot) so I split it into two parts. I hope you enjoy it. Also if you have any suggestions on what you think could happen they are very welcome :) Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I knew you two were close and all but, bloody hell, I didn't realise you were in love!"

England was really starting to get on Germany's nerves now. The British man could sometimes be as dense as America when it came to sensing the mood. This was the second time he had interrupted one of his and Italy's moments.

He frowned and, reluctantly, looked up from Italy's chocolate brown eyes. Both England and France were walking towards them. Obviously they had overheard Italy's emotional outburst earlier – practically the whole room had – and were coming over here to talk about it. He really hoped his annoyance didn't show on his face.

He wasn't angry at Italy for shouting what he had to the whole room. He might have been at little embarrassed at first but Italy had been genuinely sorry about it afterwards and it _was _an accident. Plus, when Italy looked at him so sweetly and held Germany's hand in his it made Germany's heart skip a beat. He couldn't stay angry at Italy. And anyway, he owed it to the Italian after he had been so forgiving about the night before.

Germany was about to respond to England's comment when he felt Italy stiffen beside him. The ginger took in a sharp breath and squeezed Germany's hand tightly. Germany suppressed a cry of pain. He yanked his hand out of Italy's crushing grasp and examined it, cursing under his breath.

It immediately struck Germany as odd that Italy didn't react in anyway to his action. In fact, he completely ignored what Germany did. He didn't protest in the slightest, which was unusual because Italy liked being close to Germany. He looked at Italy.

A horrible feeling began to settle in the pit of his stomach when his eyes landed on the Italian. He was as pale as snow. His eyes were wide and filled with terror and his breathing was ragged and wheezy. He was fixated on something straight ahead. Germany nervously followed his line of sight.

France and England came to halt in front of their group. England gave Italy a worried look and asked Japan if he was okay. France on the other hand, acting completely oblivious to Italy's state of terror, patted Italy gently on the shoulder.

"Good for you for finally telling him, Italy," he said smoothly.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Italy started sprinting. He shoved past France, almost knocking him over, and ran out the doors of the meeting room. His screams echoed down the corridor as he left. It happened so fast that Germany didn't even have time to react until the Italian had gone.

"I-Italy!" he called out but it was no use.

"I wonder what is wrong with Italy. I knew he used to be afraid of England but that was years ago. What could have scared him like that?"

Germany didn't know. His mind raced around and around in a state of near panic, thinking of scenario's that could have caused this. Knowing Italy, it could have anything. No. It had to be something. He just needed to calm down and think about this. But the longer he stayed here thinking the further away Italy was getting from him.

"I'm going after him," Germany decided resolutely. Italy needed someone right now and that someone would be him.

"But Germany..." the blonde didn't hear the rest of England's comment as he was already out of the meeting room. As soon as he was in the corridor, he broke into a run. He rushed through the hotel and out on to the street, the fear at the bottom of his stomach propelling him to go faster.

The look of fear on Italy's stuck in Germany's mind. He couldn't get it out of his head. It reminded him so much of the look that had been on it the other night. Guilt racked inside him once again. Once he found out what was causing Italy's fear he was going to do all he could to stop that look from ever being on his face again.

Germany found Italy seated on the hillside that looked out over Rome; the place where Italy had confessed his love for him less than 24 hours ago. How he knew Italy was going to be here he didn't know. Something had just told him that this was a good place to look, although it hadn't been his first idea. He had gone to few other places first.

Italy was sat alone on the hill. He had his legs tugged in so he could rest his head on his knees and he faced the view. He gazed straight ahead with a thoughtful frown on his lips. The ginger was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice Germany until he was right next to him.

"Oh. H-hey Germany!" Italy stammered, a shaky smile appearing on his face. Germany sighed. Italy had never been very good at hiding his feelings. Germany could read him like a book. He took a seat beside Italy and looked out over the view with him.

It was completely different to how it looked at night but still just as beautiful. All the details could be seen in the light of day. The streets were filled with hundreds of bustling cars and ant-sized people. The sunlight reflected off the rustic coloured buildings, giving the whole city a glow that only a city viewed at sunset normally had. The greenery of the city could also be seen now. It gave Rome displays of colour here and there, the bright green contrasting with the usual oranges, browns and whites of the buildings. The day was clear and bright so they could see far off in the distance. There the sea of buildings became less dense and the greenery of the countryside took over. Hills sprouted up far away, creating the horizon line as it merged became the blueness of the sky. The city of Rome held the same beauty but in a completely different way.

"I'm glad I chose to hide here," Italy whispered. Germany looked at him. He was still in the same position as before, staring out over the city, except now he had a small smile on his face. "You're the only one who knows about it (except for Romano) and you're the only person I want to talk to right now." Germany couldn't help but blush when Italy said that.

"Italy...I...are you feeling better?" Germany asked, not sure how to ask what he really wanted to ask. Italy looked up at him and smiled this one more genuine than the last.

"Ve~ I'm feeling much better. Thanks!" Germany nodded. The pair lapsed into silence once again, looking at the view. At length, Germany sighed again.

"Italy..." Germany glanced to Italy. The ginger was looking at him expectantly, his chocolate brown eyes somehow encouraging Germany. As he looked into Italy's eyes, Germany noticed that the usual innocent sparkle in them had vanished. This worried Germany.

"What was it that frightened you so much in the meeting room?" he finally asked. Italy immediately looked away, down to his fiddling hands.

"I knew you were going to ask that," he whispered before letting out an exasperated sigh. He scrunched up his eyes and gripped his knees tightly. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath; as if to ready himself. "I...listen. Germany, I-I really should have told you this earlier but...but...I-I was scared."

"You're always afraid of something-"

"But this time I was _really_ scared," Italy cut him off, his voice trembling. He sounded dangerously close to tears. He didn't say anything for a moment as he collected himself. When he spoke again his voice was no louder than a whisper. "I was...was a-afraid that you...you would h-hate m-me."

Germany blinked, a little surprised by this revelation. Why would he hate Italy? It didn't make any sense. He loved Italy, loved him with all his heart.

"I could never hate you." He put his hand on Italy's shoulder but, once again, it was shoved off. Italy didn't respond to his statement, ignoring it as someone ignores something they don't believe to be true.

"It h-happened last night, when you came back to my h-house and...and we made out." Italy paused. "Do you know what a repressed memory is?" Italy still didn't look at Germany as he asked the question. His voice still trembled.

"_Ja, _I do," Germany answered, wondering silently what this had to do with his question. Italy nodded quickly in acknowledgement before carrying on.

"Well, w-when we were t-together...one was...triggered, I guess. I-I don't know what triggered it but...it was s-scary. One m-minute I was with you...and the n-next I was in the p-past."Germany could see Italy was shaking now. He watched as a tear slid down his cheek. The ginger's grip on his knees tightened, making his knuckles turn white. He stared off into space in front of him, seemingly lost in the memory. It was a moment before Italy was brought back to the situation at hand. He muttered a small apology and drew in another shaky breath, still not looking Germany in the eye.

"I-I remembered...in the memory I was r-round...F-France's house. W-we were alone...sitting a-and chatting...and then he...he..." Italy's voice was suddenly taken away as a huge sob erupted from his chest. He buried his face in his hands so Germany couldn't see his expression but his shoulders shook violently as he continued to cry. Germany felt so helpless to see him like this. He wanted to do something to help. He could at least comfort him but Italy wouldn't let the blonde even touch him. The Italian had started talking again but his words were incomprehensible through his sobs.

"Italy...?"

"Rape!" The twisted words escaped Italy's lips as a tortured yell. Germany was forced into a denying shock by it. Comprehensible words wouldn't exit his mouth because of the large lump that had settled itself in his throat. He could only shake his head back and forth in disbelief. Rape? Italy couldn't have been...raped? The mere thought of it made Germany stomach churn. He couldn't have. It didn't make sense. Italy...it just...no.

"H-he tried to...to r-rape me," Italy stuttered, having composed himself enough to start talking again. "B-but I managed to g-get away...r-run away. I-I kicked him...so h-he didn't get f-far..." Italy's voice was once again lost to the oncoming tears.

The relief that swept over Germany was almost too much to handle. He let out a long breath, having not realised he had been holding his breath in the first place. He felt he could laugh – or cry – but he didn't. Compared to rape, what had actually happened seamed almost trivial, although his opinion immediately changed when his eyes landed on Italy. The ginger was staring forward into space, tears falling down his cheeks continuously and sobs tearing out from him. Guilt instantly replaced Germany's relief.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Germany edged closer to Italy and wrapped his arms gently around the ginger. His head snapped up, his chocolate brown eye's finally meeting Germany's. They were red and puffy and slightly glazed over from so many tears having fallen from them. Pain and fear were the only emotions Germany could see deep within them.

Italy opened his mouth to say something but Germany quickly silenced him with his own words. "I love you," he said with as much emotion as he could muster. He owed it to Italy. The words he had said earlier about Germany hating him still hung heavy in Germany's mind. Plus, the Italian needed someone right now, someone to hold him, someone to comfort him. He tried to remember how long ago it was he realized he wanted to be that someone.

As Germany said the three words he saw Italy's eyes soften. They still didn't have that innocent sparkle in them but the fear and pain had been subdued. Something at the back Germany's mind worried for a second that he would never see that innocent sparkle again. Germany ignored it, smiling at the broken man in his arms. Italy lips, too, curved up at the edges, producing the most genuine smile Germany had seen on his face today.

Suddenly, Italy threw his arms around Germany's torso and buried his face in the blonde's chest. He cried with all his might, no longer holding in anything like before. Tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking into Germany's shirt. Sobs and cries escaped his mouth but they sounded less painful now they were being muffled. At least he didn't have to be scared any more. Germany wouldn't let him be scared...or at least get hurt.

Although Germany tensed up – by force of habit only – when Italy hugged him, he quickly relaxed and hugged the Italian tightly back. He nuzzled Italy's ginger hair, kissing it lightly and offering words of comfort to him every so often. They stayed like that for a while.

A few hours passed. Eventually Italy's tears ran out. Not long after he was asleep in Germany's arms. The blonde couldn't help but smile at this. Not wanting wake Italy up, he carefully picked Italy up in a bridal carry (just the idea of it made Germany's cheeks turn bright red). The Italian mumbled a few words but remained firmly unconscious. Germany thought about carrying Italy down the hill in this manner but immediately dismissed the idea as impractical. Instead, he gently shifted Italy so he on his back. Italy's arms and head rested on Germany's shoulders. Somehow he still didn't wake up, although he did begin mumbling again. Germany thought he heard his name among the incomprehensible mummers. Germany blushed and began trudging down the hill.

Unfortunately, with Italy being asleep on his shoulders it gave him a lot of time to think.

**Thank you everyone so much for all the reviews and compliments and for reading. I'm glad you like it so much. Unfortunately school started today so I might have to start updating slower because of school work. I'll try hard to carry on though. Again, if anyone has any suggestions, questions or edits just please feel free to voice them. Thanks for reading :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

As Germany trudged down the hill, with Italy perched on his back deep in sleep, it gave him a lot of time to think to himself. This wasn't a good thing in Germany's eye; the only thing swirling through his mind right now was Italy's confession. He didn't particularly want to think about it, the idea of Italy almost being...r-raped made him feel completely sick and disgusted, but the awful thoughts and questions wouldn't leave him be.

France. That was who Italy had said done it, but...it didn't seem like him. How could the Frenchman have done something so sickening? France was...was...Germany sighed. He couldn't defend him. Italy had known France much longer. This could have been long before either of them knew Germany, when Prussia was still a nation. This could have happened when Italy was still a kid.

Germany halted as soon as the thought entered his mind. His mouth hung open and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. A picture of force itself into Germany's mind; a picture of a child Italy being forced to remove his angelic, white dress by the dark looming figure that was France. The blonde haired man had an evil smirk on his face and a hungry look in his eye. Italy could do nothing but obey.

Germany closed his eyes and shook his head, as if doing it would force the picture from his mind. He started trudging onwards again, grumbling to himself about how unrealistic that picture was. But something at the back of his mind persisted that it wasn't as far off as he hoped. His stomach churned.

And yet, Italy had managed to escape, right? The r-rape hadn't actually happened. It was simply a case of what could have been. Germany shook his head at his foolishness, immediately knowing that the thought was wrong. Sexual harassment was just as bad as rape, perhaps even worse if it was intended to become just that. It leaves the victim's mind to wonder what could have happened, what might happen in the future. They string it out in their mind until they believe that it's worse than it actually is. And then there's the fear. The fear of what could happen next time. Would they be twisted enough to go all the way and commit the disgusting crime?

How could anyone even think about doing something like that? It made Germany sick to his core, and to think...France. France thought those things. France had wanted to...wanted to...Germany could feel the anger boiling up inside of him. He wanted to kick something, shoot something, shout at someone. He just couldn't get that fucking blonde haired, disgusting Frenchman out of his-

Germany's foot slipped out from underneath of him. He was so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't been aware of how fast or even where he was going. His hands reached out in panic and grabbed onto a near by tree, saving him from hitting the hard ground. He steadied himself and let out a sigh of relief, only to realise, a second too late, that the weight of Italy was no longer on his back. He grabbed out behind him but his hands only caught thin air. There was a loud thud and Germany span around.

"VEEEEEEEEEE~ Germany! That hurt!" Italy was slumped on the dusty ground, trying desperately to sit up whilst rubbing his butt at the same time. He had a dazed, pained look on his face.

"I-Italy!" Germany knelt down beside Italy and hesitantly placed a hand on his face. Tears were once again streaming down his red cheeks. "I-I'm sorry. It was an accident. I slipped and I-I dropped you. I should have been paying more attention."

Italy opened his tear filled eyes and looked up into Germany's. He didn't like the pained frown on Italy's lips.

"Y-you dropped m-me?" Italy sniffled. Guilt was settling in the bottom of Germany's stomach. How could he have been so careless, especially after everything had just happened? Who is stupid enough to drop a person while their sleeping? Germany smiled the most apologetic smile he could muster.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Italy. It really was an accident-"

"Ve~! Germany, you look so cute when you're apologising~!" Italy yelled, out of no where throwing his arms around Germany's neck in a tight hug. Germany stiffened.

"I-"

"Of course I forgive you! It was an accident, right? So it's fine. Ve~ if you think about it now, it's kind of funny..." Germany looked down at the babbling Italian, amazed at how he could change his mood so fast. He had a bright smile on his face yet his cheeks and eyes were still wet from the tears. His ginger hair blew in the gentle breeze, his curl bobbing up and down in time with Italy's chatter. His cheeks were a light, rosy red and his lips...It was only then did Germany realise how close Italy's face was to his. Germany closed the distance between them in an instant, pressing his lips tenderly to his new found lover's. He couldn't help himself. Italy's lips were just so...kissable.

But Germany could only experience the moment for a second as Italy immediately pushed him away. Confused – and slightly rejected – Germany looked to the Italian for an explanation. His cheeks were flushed bright pink but he was looking down, as though he were ashamed.

"I'm sorry. I just...I-I can't..." Italy trailed off. He didn't need to say anymore; Germany got the message. Now wasn't a time for kissing. Italy was still terrified by the memory. It was stupid of Germany to even consider it. Germany sighed. Guilt began to gnaw at him from the inside. He really wasn't himself today.

"No, I'm should be the one apologising," and with that said Germany quickly stood up and held a hand out for Italy, a small smile appearing on his lips. Italy happily accepted Germany's hand, hopping up and smiling a bright – if a little bit shaky – smile back at him. They began walking again, hand in hand, and Italy was once again babbling about anything that came to his mind. There was something off about it though. After having spent so many years beside the Italian, Germany could when he wasn't as happy as he usually was. Of course he knew why; he just wished there was something he could do about it. A sick feeling emerged in the pit of his stomach as it dawned on him that there was really nothing he could do but be there for Italy and comfort him. He just desperately hoped Italy didn't have to suffer through this for much longer.

"No, we're not coming back to the meeting I'm afraid. I'm going to stay with Italy." Germany heard some shuffling on the other end of the phone after he spoke. He leant against a window of a small café on the streets of Rome. People walked by him continuously, ignoring him as they would most other foreigners. Germany didn't mind. He simply lowered his head and looked to the ground as he spoke.

"Oh. That's a shame." Japan paused for a moment. Some muffled whispers came from the other end. An Italian woman passed, giving him an edgy sideways glance. Germany ignored. "Umm...can I ask? Why did you leave in the first place?" Germany glanced at Italy. He was a few doors down, staring through a shop window and admiring some of the objects on display.

"Errr...it's sort of personal. You should really ask Italy."

"Very well. Then we shall postpone the meeting." Some where in the background he heard someone cheer. Germany rolled his eyes. Typical America.

"You don't have to do that-"

"No, no, it's fine. Not many people are here anyway as some went out to look for Italy after you."

"Oh." Germany suddenly felt very stupid for not realising that other people cared for Italy as well as him. They were probably extremely worried; it was Italy after all. He should have called someone earlier.

"When shall we have the meeting then?"

"Erm...we could postpone it a week. Having it at the same time and place would make it easier. That is if Italy remembers to re-book the hotel." Germany made a mental note to remind Italy to do that.

"That sounds appropriate, although it might overlap with the flight schedules."

"Of course. I completely forgot. Will you be able to make it in time?"

"I will simply re-book my flight. I'm sure the rest of them will be willing to do that as well. If Italy is having troubles then it's the least we can do." Germany smiled slightly at Japan's generosity and began walking over to Italy and his window, sensing the conversation was coming to an end.

"You're very kind Japan."

"Arigato Germany. Also, I'd like to say congratulations to you and Italy. I didn't get the chance to at the hotel." Germany blushed slightly, grateful that Japan couldn't see him at the moment. He stopped beside Italy and lent against the window again. The ginger was bent over, looking at something on one of the lower shelves. Unconsciously, Germany's eyes slid down to Italy's cute butt.

"Thank you. I'll tell Italy you said that." At the sound of his name Italy looked up with questioning look on his face. Germany immediately averted his eyes to feet, a bright blush forming on his cheeks.

"Yes. Good bye." Germany heard a beep at the other end of the phone, signalling that Japan had hung up. The blonde did the same. "They're going to postpone the meeting for a week," Germany said, talking to Italy now.

"They are? But...isn't everyone going to miss they're flights?" Italy asked, straitening up, his eyes never leaving the window. Germany could tell he was purposely trying to avoid his eyes. He was feeling guilty about this.

"Not everyone. Besides, they can re-book." Italy shook his head, not convinced. He was biting his nails now.

"But they'll have to hang around in Italy for a week."

Germany shrugged. "_Ja_...so? Rome is an enjoyable city. They can considerate it a holiday."

"But...won't they're bosses-"

"Italy..." Germany cut Italy off and gave him a critical look. "They are staying here because they want to help you out...that and some of them actually do think it's a holiday." Germany shook his head in disapproval as he thought about America's cheering. Italy laughed and looked up at Germany.

"Ve~ you're right! I need to remember to say thank you to them the next time I see them," Italy told himself sternly. Germany's lips turned up at the edges as Italy continued to mumble to himself about what to do during the week.

Germany stared out into the street, watching the bustling Italian's walk this way and that in the mid afternoon sun. There weren't as many as he had expected, although it was the middle of the day. Most of them were probably at work. That was when he saw him; a blonde, long haired man walking hurriedly down the street. He stood out from the rest of the crowd as everything about him screamed foreign. He quite obviously didn't belong in Italy. Germany could tell immediately it was France. His eyes narrowed. The very sight the Frenchman made Germany's blood boil. He curled his hands into fists by his side and gritted his teeth. He was extremely tempted to march across the street lay all his anger on France there and then but he was very conscious of the Italian standing beside him. Luckily Italy's back was turned right now, as he was still admiring the shop's display window, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. Plus, there was always the possibility that France would see them. They weren't exactly hidden.

Not able to look at the perverted Frenchman anymore, he turned to Italy. "We should go." It was meant to sound like a suggestion but the anger coursing through him made it come out more as an order. It also made Italy look up at him worriedly.

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"Come on, lets go somewhere else," Germany said, a little softer this time, grabbing Italy's hand and striding off in any direction he could go. He only managed one step.

"Italy! Germany! _Attendez_!" The smooth voice calling out to them made Germany freeze in his tracks. His anger seemed sizzle inside of him, creating a fog of pure rage around his mind. His earlier thoughts and pictures of France all came flooding back to him. Italy's word bounced around his mind until he could think of nothing else, nothing but what that sick, perverted excuse of a person France must have done...must have been thinking when he...when he...

Germany closed his eyes and ground his teeth together. He needed to calm down. He needed to distract himself. The only thing stopping him from killing France right now was the trembling Italian behind him. Italy had frozen as soon as France had called out. His breathing had quickened and his grip on Germany's hand had become unbreakable. Germany knew he must have been petrified.

Turning his head slightly to the side, Germany saw that France was in the process of crossing the road. A million ways of getting rid of France ran through the blonde's head, most ending up with a mangled France and a very satisfied Germany. No, no matter how tempting it was, violence was not the answer. He did the only one he could think of that didn't end in bloodshed; he stepped directly in front of Italy and crossed his arms threateningly, blocking the path between the two.

"Italy, thank god I found you. When you ran away from the meeting like you did, I was really worried!" France was standing in front of them now. Germany felt Italy grip his shirt tightly, burying his face his back. He trembled violently and a small whimper escaped his lips. Germany's eyes narrowed.

"Get the fuck away from him."Germany's voice was no louder than it would be if he were in a casual conversation but it had the same affect, if not more, than if his voice was raised. France blinked, obviously surprised by Germany's words. He raised his hands in front of him defensively and took a small step back but that creepy smile was still on his face. He laughed nervously.

"Hey, _Allemagne_, what's with the language? I'm only trying to see if Italy is okay."

"You know why," Germany spat, staying frozen to the spot. France frowned, confusion settling on his features. He thought for a moment but when he saw that Germany was serious about not moving, he took a step around Germany in an attempt to see Italy. Germany put out his arm, preventing France from moving any closer. France looked at Germany. For a second Germany thought he a hint of what looked like anger in the blonde's eyes but it was gone before Germany could take recognition of it. Instead it was replaced by something like understanding, although Germany doubted that it truly was. The smile now returned to his face, more disturbing than ever.

"Oh, I get it. You want Italy all to yourself, honononon-" A loud crunch echoed through the air, silencing France. His head snapped with such force that it made him stumble backwards. There was a shocked silence as the three nations came to grips to what had just happened. Germany slowly lowered his fist and straightened up. His breathing was heavy but a small, satisfied smile appeared on his face. France, on the other hand, was screaming out in pain. Continuous streams of curses flowed from his mouth but his voice sounded off somehow. His hands covered his face but dribbles of blood still managed to slip through his fingers.

"_MERDE! Allemagne, tu baise bâtard! _You broke my nose!" Germany simply smiled at France's yells, enjoying the sound of that pervert in pain. Although he hadn't actually meant to punch France, the unsettling sound of his laugh had just tipped him over the edge, making him lash out with all his might without even thinking about it. Now that the deed was done, he was actually more satisfied with himself. He managed to cause some pain that France had long deserved.

"VEEEEEE~! GERMANY! He's bleeding!" Italy screamed, tugging violently at Germany's sleeve. "What did you do!" Germany frowned and turned his head to the right. Italy was at his side now, screaming straight into Germany's ear. His chocolate brown eyes were wide and questioning. They stared directly into his and tears could be seen pooling at the edges. Italy was overreacting, as per usual, but Germany couldn't ignore the clenching feeling in pit of his stomach when he saw the fear deep within his brown eyes.

"He deserved it," Germany growled, quickly turning his head away. No, the fear was because of France...right?

"What's that supposed to mean, Nazi?" France snarled, trying – and failing – to sound intimidating whilst holding a hand over his still bleeding nose. It still got Germany. He could feel his anger boiling up inside him once again, the cloud of rage returning to help him inflict more damage. Was this pervert looking for a fight?

"Shut the fuck up!" Germany spat the words, finally letting the full force of his hatred and anger enter his voice. He clenched his fists and raised them threateningly. But, instead of fighting back, France straightened up, sent one last spiteful glare to Germany before holding out a hand to the trembling ginger beside him.

"Come on, Italy. Lets go. This guy is dangerous." And that demented smile appeared on his face once again. Germany couldn't stand it anymore. He lunged at France.

**Please don't kill me for the late update. I'm really really really sorry. I feel really bad because I always hate it when other people do it so I'm just really sorry. I was just having trouble writing this chapter (it ended up being quite long) plus I had some other ideas for fanfic's I wanted to write up. **

**I just want to say thank you to Chi for the review. It just really cheered me up after a crappy day so thank you. I really love it when people review, the give me the encouragement to write. Thank you to everyone and please review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Italy finally unlocked his front door and struggled into the house, a broken German round his shoulders. The fight between him and France hadn't lasted long but it had been horrible. Italy had witnessed the whole thing and been frozen in shock for most of it; not that he really could have done anything to stop it anyway. It had only been broken up when Britain arrived. He had supposedly been out looking for Italy when he came across a large crowd of people cheering on a fight. He would have walked straight past without a seconds thought if he hadn't heard France cry out in pain at that moment. He had somehow managed to break up their fight and dispersed the crowd within a few minutes. Italy had left with Germany around his shoulder moments after that.

Germany was limping at Italy's side, trying to suppress moans of pain from exciting his mouth with every step he took. Italy flinched every time he heard one escape his lips but he felt even worse when he saw that the blonde was trying to keep them in just for his sake. Italy awkwardly closed the door before helping Germany to the sofa to let him sit down. He did so forcefully, not able to suppress the moan that escaped his lips this time. Italy immediately apologised and started to panic. He jumped up and down, screaming apologies, unsure how to help Germany.

"Just...get me a pack of ice, okay?"

"Right! Ice!" he said, scrambling off to the kitchen to carry out the task. Unfortunately, his mind went completely blank as soon as he entered it. He franticly searched around in random places in a desperate effort to find it, feeling more and more flustered for not knowing where he kept the ice...and guilty for keeping Germany waiting.

"Y-you didn't have to do that you know." He heard Germany's voice float in from the living room, sounding a little flustered himself.

"Ve~? Do what?" he asked as he opened a draw filled with cutlery. This was getting stupid now. How could he not where anything was in his own house? His mind was just so filled with thoughts of this afternoon he couldn't even think straight. But he didn't want to think about this afternoon. No. He had to distract himself. He had to just keep looking.

"You know..." Germany trailed off, making Italy pause too and look up to the door in worry. "You know...carrying me home and everything." The last words came out as a mumble but they still made Italy blush. He went back to the task at hand with the words replaying his head and a small smile on his face. But the smile was quickly lost as frustration began to take over. He opened another cupboard but slammed it shut when he found only plates in it. He couldn't even remember what he was looking for anymore. He sighed in annoyance.

"Why are you looking for ice in a cupboard?"

"VE~!" Italy screamed, jumping what felt like two feet in the air. He leant on the desk for a moment, taking in deep breaths and trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart, before laughing nervously. He turned around and looked at his feet, hating the blush that was creeping into his cheeks. "Y-you scared me Germany." He laughed again, although it still sounded shaky. Germany gave him a questioning look before limping over to fridge. Realisation swept over Italy. He darted in front of the blonde just before he opened the door and quickly did it himself.

"You shouldn't be doing that Germany! I was getting the ice. You just go sit down." Italy reached in to the freezer. He ignored his shaking hand and grabbed an ice pack that was already in there.

"I came in to see what was going on. You were making a lot of noise." Italy closed the freezer door.

"But you're in pain. You should be relaxing," Italy said in a shaky voice. He'd been trying to hide his feelings as much as possible and focus on Germany but it was beginning to slip through. He hoped Germany didn't notice. He pushed the ice pack against Germany's chest with trembling hands, trying to get the blonde to turn around and return the sofa. No matter how much he pushed though, Germany didn't move.

Italy stared down at his hands as Germany slowly took the ice pack from him and placed it on the countertop beside them. The blonde lifted his hand and gently placed it on Italy's chin, pulling it upwards so Italy could do nothing but stare straight into his beautiful, blue eyes. They were filled with nothing but worry. It made Italy's stomach churn. He had been avoiding Germany's eyes ever since the fight, trying to keep them focused on anything else. He had hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"Italy, what's wrong?" Italy noticed the worry from Germany's eyes leaking into his voice. It was silly really; Germany shouldn't be worrying about him. He should be worrying about himself. He was the one who was hurt. Italy was about to laugh the question off, lying and saying he was perfectly fine, when something caught his eye. Germany's face was different. His perfect, pink skin had almost vanished under a mass of purple blemishes. Bruises; they must have formed while they were walking back to Italy's house. The ginger could do nothing but stare in horror. He robotically lifted one hand to Germany's eye, where a particularly dark one had appeared. He brushed it lightly with his fingertips. Germany flinched away. It made the sick feeling in the pit of Italy's stomach double.

Before he could stop himself, tears had begun pouring down his cheeks. He tried to force them back but they wouldn't obey. He yanked his face from Germany's hand and lunged forward, burying it into Germany's chest. He didn't want Germany to see him like this. He grabbed the white shirt Germany was wearing and scrunched it tight in his hands so he couldn't be pulled away. The tears that flowed down his cheeks were absorbed by the shirt and it was soon completely sodden and ruined.

"I-it's all m-my fault!" Italy sobbed, finally letting out his bottled up feelings through his broken voice, the guilt that had been eating away at him all this time finally bubbling up to the surface. It was unbearable. It continuously came back to haunt him; to remind him how it was all his fault. Everything. Them postponing the meeting, Germany getting hurt. It was all because he had let France touch him in...those...ways. Another rack of sobs shook through him as the memory of what this was all about came rushing back to him, filling his head until he could think of nothing else. He'd been trying to distract himself lately from it all but it constantly hung heavy at the back of his mind. If even the slightest thing reminded him of it, it would become the only thing he was conscious of and distraction would become impossible. He felt so dirty. How could Germany even touch him after what had happened? How could Germany stand to be near him when it was all his fault?

"What! What do you mean it was all your fault?" As Germany said the words, Italy couldn't help but notice how he stood completely rigid. He made no move to comfort or even touch Italy as the Italian cried into his chest. So he really didn't want to touch him. He really _was_ that disgusted by him. Italy's sobbed came out harder upon this realisation. The tears wouldn't stop. He tried to compose himself, in order to answer Germany's question, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. He took a deep, shaky breath and loosened his grip on Germany's shirt. His knuckles were white from gripping so hard. He stepped backwards, immediately hating the space that separated them. But it was necessary. If Germany didn't want to touch him then he was fine...he could deal with it. No matter how much he wanted Germany to hold and comfort him, it didn't matter. He deserved it anyway after what he did. There was no excuse for Germany getting hurt. He rested his head in his hands, trying to prevent Germany from seeing his face. The tears still flowed continuously. The sobs still rattled through him.

"E-everything! Y-you getting...getting hurt. I-it's...all b-because I-I let...I let F-f-fr..._him_...t-touch m-me..." Italy's sentence was lost to tears.

"Italy..." The ginger couldn't bear to lift his eyes. He didn't want to see Germany's critical, accusing expression; one he knew he would see if he did look up. He didn't think he could take anymore. Italy heard Germany let out a long sigh. "Italy, I...you..."

A pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around the trembling Italian. A hand was gently placed on the back of Italy's head and began stroking through his hair comfortingly as he started, once again, to cry into Germany's chest. Italy didn't resist. He didn't even know what to think. He simply let it happen, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

"None of it is your fault, Italy. You can't ever think that. It's completely French bastard's fault for taking advantage of you. You did nothing wrong." Italy felt comforted by Germany's words – or was it just the hand stroking through his hair – but he didn't quite believe them. How could Germany not blame him for what he did?

"B-but you were...y-you were h-hurt-"

"That's not your fault either, Italy. I was the one who chose to...fight France. It's _my_ fault and I take full responsibility." Germany said the words firmly, as if he wouldn't take no for an answer. They were filled with such certainty that Italy couldn't doubt the truth within them. Germany's words were beginning to get through to him. The burning guilt inside of him started to die down, although it didn't vanish completely. He sniffed and nodded against Germany's shirt.

"I-I love you." Italy's heart fluttered. Hearing those words come from Germany's mouth made Italy feel on top of the world. He knew right then he would never get tired of hearing them. He gave in to Germany's embrace and wrapped his arms around the blonde's torso. His tears and sobs having subsided a little, he felt a small smile appear on his lips.

"_Ti amo,_" Italy mumbled. With his face pressed against the German's chest, Italy heard his steadily beating heart speed up. He looked up to see Germany looking away, a ferocious blush on his face. Italy's smile widened. The events of the previous few days seamed almost insignificant now. But they still hung heavy at the back of his mind.

**xOxOx**

"How could he do a thing like that?" The words sliced down the corridor of the hotel, echoing in the absolute silence there had been before hand. Only one person had been walking down the hallway at the time. He very clearly heard the words dance down the corridor. Italy stopped in mid stride and cocked his head to the side.

"Spain?" He voiced his question to the deathly silent room. It gave him the chance to think. It sounded a lot like the Spaniard. He could recognise his big brother's happy tone of voice anywhere. Only, it didn't sound happy. Rage scored through it, making him sound like a monster compared to his normal self.

_Something big must have happened_, Italy decided almost immediately. It could quite a lot to make big brother Spain angry.

The ginger turned on his heels to search, unsuccessfully, for the source of the voice. There was no one in the hallway. He sighed, for a moment thinking that the voice had only been his imagination, but he quickly noticed a slightly ajar door – the only one open in the corridor – down the other end. Bright light and murmuring voices spilt intriguingly from it. Italy headed for it, a slight skip in his step. He had to admit, whether he was angry or not, he was really happy big brother Spain was here. A beaming smile spread across his face, the sort of one that hadn't been finding its way to his face as often lately. He hadn't seen Spain in a while. He never usually had the time to visit Italy.

Italy froze in his action of reaching for the door when the thought struck him. Why _was_ Spain in Rome? It was a rare – but joyous – occasion when he did come and even then he would usually come straight to his house. Although, now that he thought about it, this surprise might have something to do with Romano. His short-tempered brother had been spending a lot of time at Spain's lately – the thought made him giggle whenever he thought about it – maybe he simply missed Italy, had come back and invited Spain along too. Or maybe their boss-

"Are you sure it was him? It really doesn't sound like the sort of thing he would do." A voice severed through Italy's thoughts. It wasn't the same voice as before. It wasn't Spain's voice. It belonged to someone else; someone he didn't instantly recognise yet it still rang a few bells in his head. There was definitely a faint German tint in it. Maybe it was a friend of Germany's. He stood there deliberating for a moment, hand still hovering over the doorknob unknowingly, the light from the ajar door spilling onto Italy and leaving a thin strip of it over him, the sort of one where you can see the dust dance and swirl almost magically in the air. But Italy didn't notice this. He was too distracted by the third, more recognisable voice that joined the party.

"What do you mean am I sure it was him? You think I wouldn't recognise him when he had me on the ground, beating my face to a pulp!" The new, yelling voice made Italy's blood run cold. His heart was suddenly pounding in his ears and his breathing was so fast he could no longer control it. He tried to make as little noise as possible whilst quickly thinking of a way to get out of there. Every nerve inside of him wanted to run off as fast as his leather shoes could take him but he was smart enough to know that if he was caught eavesdropping he'd deader than he already was. He took a small, shaky step backwards.

"Calm down, France! I was just asking. I... I just find it hard to believe that West would do something like that." Italy stopped, momentarily distracted from the fear clutching his heart, and pricked up his ears. It was the German voice again that spoke. It sounded so familiar but he couldn't quite get a grasp on it. It floated around in front of him tauntingly, just out of Italy's reach. The man spoke in urgent whisper, one that obviously didn't want France's built up anger to be forced on him. Who was _West_ anyway? Was that a new nation Italy didn't know about or was it just the nickname of someone he knew that he had just never heard before? The ginger frowned, absorbed by his confused thoughts.

"Well, believe it," France growled, not attempting to hide the pure venom in his voice. It snapped Italy back to reality, adrenaline once again coursing through him. "Go ask Italy if you don't, or better yet ask the culprit himself. I'm sure he wouldn't deny it. He even had a smile on his Nazi face as he was doing it." Italy froze in the execution of his escape, his eyebrows furrowing downwards at the mention of his name. Ask him what? About what this guy _West _did? Italy didn't know anyway called West _or_ what he did. And why would France call him a Nazi? The only time he ever did that was-

Italy gasped, immediately throwing his hand to mouth to silence himself. They were talking about Germany; about what he did to France. Italy instinctively took a step closer and leaned his ear against the door, forcing out every inclination inside of him to run away screaming and waving his white flag. He tried to ignore the fact he was trembling. He didn't want to think about how he flinched whenever he heard France's voice.

The Frenchman let out a long, exasperated sigh. To Italy's ears he sounded completely shattered.

"I don't even know why he did it anyway. I thought we were on good relations." He paused for a moment and there was silence in the room. When he spoke again there was a dark edge in his voice that didn't sound right coming from his lips. It made him sound like sick murderer, one that slaughtered people just for the thrill of it. It sent a violent tremor through Italy. He was just thankful he couldn't see the Frenchman's face.

"I think we should take our revenge upon him." Italy forgot how to breathe. His heart leapt to his throat, clogging it so he couldn't make a sound. His mouth hung open in horror and he could feel thin beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. Revenge? His heartbeat was completely out of control. They were going to...hurt Germany. The very thought made Italy sick to his core. France had already done enough to ruin everything and now he was going to make it even worse.

"Your right~ I'll go get my axe!" Italy choked back a cry of horror at Spain's dark statement. He took deep breath but was forced to stop when he heard shuffling towards the door. He took a cautious step backwards as the door began to slowly swing open.

"Wait!" The door froze. Italy let a silent sigh as relief poured through him, forever thankful to the German accented man for stopping Spain. He didn't think his heart had ever got as much of a work out as it had in the last five minutes. "Listen guys...I know he beat you up France, and that was a really unawesome thing for him to do, but you can't just do the same thing back to him. What's that saying? Don't fight fire with fire...or some shit like that."

There was another pause amongst the three. Italy knew he should take this as a chance to escape but he had to stay. He had to find out what they were going to do so he could warn Germany. He couldn't let them hurt him.

"What are you talking about Prussia?" Spain asked, his voice nearer than earlier. Italy could tell he was standing right beside the door. It made Italy's erratic heart beat start up again...wait! Prussia? He replayed the last sentence in his head. Of course! It was Prussia. The German accented man was Prussia. How could he have been so stu-

"I-I mean...you don't have to...beat him up. It would make you just as unawesome as him if you did..." Prussia said, his usual confidence melting from his words. Italy blinked. He wasn't sure why Prussia was stalling them like he was. He was France's friend, right? So then why was Prussia trying to convince them not to go after Germany. It's not that Italy didn't like it; it just didn't make any sense to him.

"What are you talking about Prussia?" Spain asked, sounding as confused as Italy felt.

"Spain, I believe our dear friend Prussia has decided not join us in this fight. Isn't that right?" Although France asked it as a question, even Italy could tell he was making the decision for him.

"Well, I-"

"It's alright, you don't have to come. Just let us through so we can show our respect to that German Bastard," France said, intense anger being forced into the last two words. It made Italy flinch and take another subconscious step backwards.

"I-I.." He sounded torn. He was obviously having a hard time deciding to give France what wanted. Italy still couldn't think why though but he silently willed Prussia to do the right thing and stop them. Italy didn't think _he_ could. He suppressed a sigh. He wanted so much to stop them from doing anything to Germany but he could barely even stay in the same room as France. Maybe if he could just talk to Big Brother Spain on his own, then he wouldn't be scared. As Prussia's indecisiveness continued, Italy formulated an idea of how he could convince Spain not to fight Germany. He hadn't even told his big brother about the night before the meeting – the part where he confessed his love – and he wouldn't mind simply having a meal and catching up with Big Brother Spain...

Italy was brought out of his internal babbling by Prussia's deep sigh. He forced himself to concentrate and listened intently to what Prussia had to say next.

"Okay...but before you do anything just, please, let me...let me talk to him first. I want to see why he did it." Once again, there was silence in the room and Italy had to be all that more careful not to be heard by the trio. He held his breath, anticipation boiling up inside of him for France's answer. He wished with everything he had that he would say yes. It would give Italy more time to warn Germany and do what he could to stop them.

"Fine," France spat, obviously not happy with the idea. "You can talk to him but don't expect that to stop me once you're done."

The room was quiet after that. Italy tried to stay and listen, wondering if anything more would be said, but a growing feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that staying here was a bad idea. He'd found out what he need to know and the longer he stayed, the more likely he was to get caught. Italy turned around and took a step away from the door, being careful not to make any noise.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"What?"

"Go talk to him!"

Italy was running before he was even thinking about it, his legs moving faster than his brain. He shot down the corridor and out of the hotel, not looking back at all. A million thoughts ran his mind but he couldn't fixate on any right now; he had to get home and worn Germany. He ran as fast as he could, not stopping until he found himself standing outside of his house.

**Well, it's finally here. Sorry for the late update but I was having a lot of trouble writing this chapter and again it ended up being really long. I hope you like it!**

**Just to tell you, from now on I'm going to be updating every two weeks not weekly mainly because I'm really slow at writing. Plus we've just gone back to school and I've been swamped with work lately. Sorry. Don't be too mad at me.**

**Also can I just ask, how d you do those line things that everyone does cos I don't know how to do them and I just found out the stars don't work on .**

**Finally, thank you to everyone who reviewed. Just one more makes 25 which is awesome! Thank you! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"You're still not fucking answering my question, potato bastard! What the fuck are you doing my house?"

"If I remember correctly, this isn't just your house. It's Italy's too."

"Wh- I don't fucking care! Just because I share the house with Veneziano, doesn't mean he has _all _the say in what happens in it, dammit!"

"I'll have you know-"

"Romano?" Italy's voice shattered the argument like bullets through glass. Two heads turned simultaneously towards the sound. Italy stood, frozen, in the doorway of the house, staring at his older brother in shock.

"I-Italy!" Germany exclaimed, a blush appearing on his cheeks at having been caught arguing with his love's brother. Romano, on the other hand, was a little less discreet. He stormed up to Italy, pausing in front of him to look him up and down critically. Italy continued to stare at the other, apparently having trouble processing the fact that his brother had returned home. When the oblivious Italian persisted on saying nothing, Romano grabbed him forcefully by the shoulders and spoke instead.

"Veneziano," he began sternly. "Please talk some sense for once in your life and tell me that he isn't staying in my...our house." There was a moment of silence as the two waited for Italy to respond. The ginger blinked once before a look of pure joy broke across his face.

"Ve~! Romano!" In one swift movement, Italy broke from Romano's hold and threw himself at his brother, pulling him into a tight hug. "It's been so long since I last saw you! I couldn't even remember your face! You could have called you know." Romano stood stiff in Italy's arms, not making any move to return the hug but not making any to break it either. His cheeks tinted pink, his eyes trying to look anywhere but Italy. They landed on Germany.

"Yeah, well...I was busy, dammit," Romano muttered. Germany noticed guilt flash across his features before he quickly lowered his eyes. The blonde said nothing.

Oblivious to the moment that had just passed, Italy detached himself from his brother. He looked at Romano and a huge smile appeared on his lips. Germany felt relief wash through him. It was a rare occasion now when that sort of smile made it to Italy's lips. He would smile for people, trying to convince them he was okay, but it wasn't the same. It never reached his eyes. It made Germany realise how much he had taken that smile for granted...and how much he missed it. He reminded himself to thank Romano later...if he could find a time when they weren't arguing.

"Ve~ I missed you!" Italy chirped. Romano immediately looked away again, averting his eyes from Italy's face. His face burned bright red.

"Well, I...dammit Veneziano! You're embarrassing me in front of the potato bastard." His raised one finger so it pointed directly at Germany. The blonde stood awkwardly in the corner, trying not to intrude the brothers' moment.

"Ve~? Potato what?" Italy followed Romano's finger in confusion. His eyes rested on Germany. "Oh, you mean Germany. I don't know why you have that silly nickname for him." Italy broke away from Romano and came over to Germany. He stopped in front of him, a small, love struck smile still on his face. The ginger wrapped his arms around Germany in a much softer manner than he had done with his brother. Germany stiffened at Italy's embrace, very aware of a certain other person in the room. His eyes flickered over to the fuming Italian by the door. He was glaring at them with full rage, not attempting to make the situation any less awkward.

"I don't think that's why he calls me that," Germany pointed out, looking back down to Italy. The ginger was now staring up at him, a confused look on his face.

"Ve~? Then why does he call you it?" Germany sighed, too drained to attempt to explain the inner workings of Romano's mind to Italy; not that he knew much about it anyway. He looked over to Romano, hoping he could help with an answer to Italy's question, only to find his face in his hands from the stupidity of it. He, too, sighed.

"Whatever!" Romano yelled, throwing his hands up in defeat and storming over to the couple. Italy unwound himself from Germany and stood in front of Romano, always eager to hear what he had to say. "Just tell this German bastard that he's delusional already. He is not staying here." Italy made a face.

"He's not delusional. I asked him to stay here." Romano stared at his brother, mouth hanging open, as if he'd just declared he'd never eat pasta again.

"Y-you what! There's no fucking way that...that _thing _is staying in my house!" Germany frowned.

"I resent that-"

"Don't insult Germany! He's our guest." Italy moved himself so he stood directly between Romano and Germany. The blonde stared at Italy in amazement. This wasn't like him at all. He was never this brave, especially when it came to his brother. He never stood up to Romano. He would usually cower and cry as soon as the older started shouting at him. Germany smiled. Maybe Italy wasn't as much of a wimp as he originally thought.

"No! Just...fuck, Veneziano! I am not staying in the same house as him. If he doesn't fucking leave, I'm going to stay in a hotel, dammit." Germany couldn't help but feel a little insulted by Romano's outright hatred. He knew the Italian had never liked him but he didn't have to be so blunt about it. Germany opened his mouth to speak, about to say that he wouldn't mind going and staying at the hotel – he didn't want to be the reason for an argument between the two brothers after all – when Italy spoke instead.

"I'm sorry, Romano. He's not going anywhere."Germany was speechless. He really didn't know what to think. Did Italy really feel that much for him that he would chose him over his own brother? To Germany it sounded really bad but he still blushed fiercely at the thought. He suddenly felt extremely flustered. But it only lasted a moment before Germany noticed the two brothers staring at each other intensely, their stubbornness not letting up. The atmosphere was so tense he felt it could snap at any moment.

"Fine!" Romano snapped, throwing his hands up in defeat. He was silent for a few more seconds, probably seeing if Italy _would _change his mind, before turning his back on the pair and storming towards the door.

"_Mio fratello fottuto scelto la patate bastardo prima di me. Questa è casa mia e lui è mio cazzo fratello. __Cazzo lui _-" Romano hissed the Italian words as he exited the house, slamming the door hard behind him. Germany and Italy instinctively flinched away. He was gone.

It hadn't been two seconds before Germany saw Italy's shoulders literally fall in disappear.

"Romano..." he whispered, his voice filled with regret. He whipped round to face Germany. His chocolate brown eyes were filled with worry. They pleaded to Germany.

"I-"

"It's okay. You go after him." Italy looked surprised by Germany's words but accepted them none the less. He took a step towards the door but hesitated. Germany frowned in confusion. The Italian looked like he was wavering on the edge of a decision, torn on whether to do something before he went after Romano. He glanced over to Germany but looked away too quickly for the blonde to see his eyes. Instead Italy took his hand and squeezed it as a silent thank you.

"_Ti amo,_" he muttered. Germany blushed deeply and looked away. His hand was released and he felt Italy moved away from him. He looked up only in time to see the front door close in front of him.

**OxOxO**

Germany decided that sitting there and waiting for Italy and Romano to return was a useless idea. He assumed pretty quickly that the two brothers weren't coming back anytime soon so he attempted to find a way to keep himself occupied. He explored the house a little, having found nothing good on TV – not that he could understand Italian anyway – before searching the bookshelf for any good books to read. He eventually found one and settled down to endure the arduous task of trying to read the Italian book. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Germany looked up from his book, suddenly feeling very awkward and flustered being alone in the silent house. It wasn't Italy. He could tell that instantly. This was his house and Italy would just use his keys to get in, although forgetting his keys did sound like something Italy would do. But, that was why he felt awkward. This was _Italy's_ house and it would be extremely rude of him to answer the door and let a stranger in. Besides, he was a little nervous that it would be some random Italian person asking him to sign their petition or something. He buried his nose back into the book, hoping they whoever it was would take the hint and leave. Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed as another, louder and more forceful, knock echoed through the house. Germany insisted on ignoring it, trying to keep his focus on the book in front of him. That was, until he heard him call out.

"Italy?" The voice echoed through the silent house. It sounded quite rough and had a thick German accent to it. Germany lowered his book slowly, eyeing the door questionably. Had he really just heard Prussia call out Italy's name or was it just his imagination? He stayed absolutely still for a moment, checking if he really had heard right.

"Italy? Are you there? I need to talk to you," the voice called again, slightly louder this time. Germany blinked, confusion sweeping through him. It was definitely Prussia, he could recognise his brother's annoying voice anywhere, but why the hell was he in Rome? He wouldn't be here for the meeting; they had agreed Prussia would only come for world conference's, being the more disorganized of the two, and it would be silly to assume he was here to visit Italy. He barely even knew the bubbly nation. Germany puzzled this for a moment but was stopped short as another loud knock rang through the house.

"Italy! Come on, answer the door. I know you're there. It's the awesome me...Prussia!" Curiosity getting the better of him, Germany lowered his book, stood up and headed to the front door. He tugged it open.

In front of him was indeed the white-haired, red eyed Prussian he called his brother. He had a surprised look on his face, his hand frozen in the action of knocking on the door for the forth time. He blinked once before his entire face lit up, splitting into the huge grin that Germany had grown to know all to well.

"West!" Prussia exclaimed, strolling into the house with full confidence as if it were his own. "I heard you were staying here this time around but I didn't think it was true." Germany slowly shut the door, turning to face his older brother. The Prussian was looking around the hallway in which they stood, admiring the arrangement and decor of the house. He seamed suddenly very interested in it, picking up decretive peaces and examining them as he continued his conversation with Germany.

"What are you doing here?" Germany asked critically, not hesitating in getting straight to the point. Prussia was obviously here for a reason and Germany wanted to know. But, even with Germany's suspicious tone, the grin persisted to remain on Prussia's face. Although, as studied further into the albino's face, he noticed that there was something not quite right about it. It seamed forced, like he was putting on an act. This only persisted to peak Germany's curiosity.

"I came to visit you of course. That's just how awesome I am." Prussia said absentmindedly, shrugging off Germany's harsh tone. The blonde was sceptical of the truth behind his brother's words.

"You came all the way to Rome to visit me? I only left a few days ago." Prussia's smile faltered. He stared at the ceiling with a thoughtful look on his face. Germany suddenly got the sickening feeling that he was trying to avoid looking into his eyes.

"Well...I-I...after you called saying you were staying in Rome...for another week, I-I wanted to see-"

"Why are you _really _here?" Germany cut in, getting irritated with Prussia's obvious lies. The albino didn't answer immediately; he simply continued to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling while Germany folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot impatiently. Prussia's mind was working too slowly in Germany's opinion. Eventually, he sighed, finally turning to face his brother.

"Listen, I-" As soon as Prussia's eyes met Germany's, he froze. He stared at Germany, his mouth hanging open in shock. His eyes skipped over Germany's face, studying every inch of it intently. The blonde quickly grew uncomfortable under his brother's gaze, fidgeting awkwardly but trying his best to keep his eyes locked onto Prussia's. He saw a glint of worry somewhere deep within them.

"You look..." Prussia trailed off, looking lost for words. Germany could only be confused by Prussia's shocked state. It took him a few moments to realize what he was staring at. People had been looking at him weirdly a lot in the past few days and it was all because of his mangled. It was completely covered in bruises. Germany had even been taken aback by his own reflection, even though he had known what was coming. Scarily, he had barely been able to recognise himself. It was clearly obvious to anyone who saw him that he had been in a fight. He lifted one hand to his black eye and gently touched it. It wasn't as painful as it was a few days ago but it still stung a little.

"Yeah, I...I was in a fight." Germany said, glancing away in shame.

"I didn't think it would look this bad for you," Prussia muttered. Germany wasn't sure if he heard him right. He looked back to his brother in confusion.

"What?"

"Does it hurt?" Prussia asked, blatantly averting Germany's question. He couldn't help but feel a little suspicious. Prussia reached his hand out cautiously to Germany's eye. The blonde directly avoided it, knowing he would regret it if he let Prussia poke around his face.

"It's fine." After eyeing Germany worriedly for a moment, Prussia slowly lowered his hand. He continued to stare at Germany's face for a moment though. Germany waited. His older brother had always acted this way with him; protective and worried. It was in his nature. But Prussia's smug grin soon returned to his face.

"Well, you know if the awesome me had been there, I would have taught them a thing or t-"

"Why are you here? Just tell me," Germany growled, not attempting to hide his anger. It was only his brother after all. Prussia looked over to Germany once again before sighing deeply. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets and looked down to his feet.

"France called me over. I arrived this morning with Spain," he confessed, not daring to look up to Germany's stunned face. The next time he spoke his voice came out as a mere whisper. "He told me what you did. I didn't believe it at first but...but now that I've seen you...all beaten up...d-did...er...did you beat up France?" The question suddenly burst from Prussia's mouth, surprising Germany a little with the directness of it. He blinked, unsure how to answer. Should he tell him the truth? He could, but his brother probably wouldn't understand. Then again, he had already admitted he had gotten in a fight so, along with France's version of the story, the easiest answer would be...

"Yes." Prussia looked up with a horror stricken expression. It made Germany's confidence falter a bit, guilt beginning to fester in the pit of his stomach...No! Germany refused to feel guilty for what he did. The French bastard deserved it. One hundred percent.

"Y-your admitting to it? But...but...why?" Germany's stomach sunk. That was the question he had been wishing with all his heart Prussia wouldn't ask. It was simply because he didn't know how to answer it. He hated lying, especially to anyone close to him, but it looked like he was going to have to now. He sighed in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think of what he could say off the top of his head.

"It's...personal..." Germany wanted to punch himself. How could he have come with such an awful answer? Prussia would never accept that.

"Personal...? Is that all you have to say? You beat up one of your good friends, one of my _best_ friends, and all you can say is 'it's personal'," Prussia's voice got louder as he spoke until he was yelling the words directly at Germany. He seethed, anger glinting in his eyes, but Germany could see hurt deep within him. The blonde sighed, the guilt inside him beginning to rile up again. Prussia must have felt insulted by Germany lack of trust. He didn't blame him really; Germany would have probably felt the same way if the situation was reversed, although he would have dealt with it in a different way. Prussia often had trouble dealing with his feelings. Whenever he felt hurt or insulted, he would seek refuge in his anger and lash out at people. Germany had often been on the receiving end of Prussia's anger.

"France deserved it." Germany answered vaguely. Prussia was silent for a moment. He looked as though he was expecting Germany to say something more. The blonde stayed silent.

"Okay...so, what did he do to deserve it?" Prussia prodded. His anger seamed to have died a touch, probably in the false hope the Germany was going to tell him. But he couldn't. He could never do that to Italy. Prussia would just have to be disappointed. Germany would have to ignore the guilt spreading within him.

"I-I can't tell you. It's not really my...reason to tell." Germany paused, looking directly at his brother. Anger quickly became prominent in his bright red eyes again. The Prussian opened his mouth to retort violently but Germany quickly cut him off, predicting what was about to come. "But it is a good reason, trust me. I-I just can't tell you." Germany frowned apologetically. He desperately wanted Prussia to understand that he couldn't tell him but, by the expression on Prussia's face, he could tell that that hope was a long way off.

"Whatever," the Prussian said eventually, waving his hand at Germany in a dismissive manner. He didn't try to hide the hurt and fury within his voice. "You can not tell anyone if you want, if you want my awesome opinion, it really makes _you_ look like the bad guy. I kind of have to side with France now." The insult hit Germany with full force. It may have been a simple wave of the hand comment for Prussia but it really got to Germany. The pain that erupted within him was horrible. He wanted so much to retort back, give Prussia a taste of his own medicine, but Germany kept himself composed. He wasn't like that. He found that looking away was enough to subdue the hurt Prussia had caused. But it didn't keep his mind from wondering.

Did Prussia not trust him? Apparently not. Not enough to trust that he had a valid reason for doing this. Perhaps they weren't as close as he had originally believed. Germany heard Prussia let out a deep sigh. When he Germany glanced back over, he saw that his brother was rubbing one hand awkwardly on the back of his neck, his facial expression torn.

"But...I don't want to see you get hurt, so..." Prussia sighed again, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading towards the front door. He kept his eyes on the floor as he walked, muttering something along the lines of 'France and Spain are gunna kill me if I tell you.' Germany simply stood, utterly lost by Prussia's words. The albino stopped at the front door and looked over his shoulder at his younger brother.

"France is planning to get revenge for what you did. I don't know how and I'm not gunna know because I'm not getting involved. You're on your own."

And with that, Prussia yanked the door, trudged outside and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Germany to his own devices.

**Well, here it is, as promised. Hope you enjoy it. This chapter kinda just ended up being a bunch of arguments but hopefully it will get bet. I hope you like it.**

**There are a few things I wanna note. This chapter and the second scene in the last chapter are set a few days after the last ones, to give Spain and Prussia time to come to Italy. Hope that didn't confuse anyone.**

**Also, I have noticed that there is a lack of GerIta going on in this chapter. There will be some fluff in the next one. If you want some more just ask.**

**Lastly, what do you guys think France's revenge should be? I have some ideas but I want to hear you opinions. Put it review or PM thank you :)**

**Please review! Last time I got 10 reviews and I was really happy! :)**

**P.S If you really want to know what Romano says in Italian it's here**

_**My fucking brother**____**chose the**____**potato bastard before me**__**.**____**This**____**is my home and**____**he's my fucking**____**brother.**____**Fuck**____**him.**_

**I used google translate, which I know sucks by I had no other way.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The street was busy. It was narrow, only about the width of two cars side by side, and the multi story building towered above the pedestrianized street below. People bustled up and down it, running, walking, shouting, giggling, pointing things out. The flamboyant Italian public kept the narrow street alive even in the heat of mid day. The blistering Mediterranean sun burned down upon the street, illuminating it with its bright rays. Any other time of the day and it would have been shrouded by shadow but now, at midday, the sun was directly overhead, meaning its light could flood into the lane. A hot, cloudless day was like this one was the perfect time to eat out.

One cafe on this street had taken this perfect day as the best of opportunities. It was utterly hectic. Every table, both inside and out, was full of people; people ordering, people eating, people paying. The waiters had no time to rest. They hurried from table to table in a manic rush of trying to get to every table as soon as possible.

"I bet_ they_ wish they were two places at once," one Italian man observed to his friend, as they strolled past the chaotic mess of a cafe.

"The food's got to be good if it's that popular though," the friend replied on a more positive note. The first man simply nodded at this remark. They walked past without another word.

Italy and Romano were seated at one of these tables. After Italy had rushed out of the house after his angry brother it hadn't taken long to catch up to him. Pushing the fear and tears aside, he had managed to calm Romano down enough to convince him to come with Italy to their favourite cafe so they could talk. Italy had been too excited at the time to think of anything else, he couldn't remember the last time him and his brother had gone out to eat together, but as they drew nearer the cafe dread had begun to settle in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to tell Romano everything; everything that had happened in the last few days. He deserved to know the truth. He just hoped he would be understanding, like Germany, and not hate him for letting such a thing happen to him.

Right now Italy was looking down at his hands beneath the table, to afraid to look Romano in the eye. He could feel tears slipping down his cheeks and off his chin with full force but, luckily, this time no sobs came out. He been trying to force them back, as they were in a public place, but he didn't know how long he would be able to keep it up. The ginger was very conscious of Romano's eyes upon him. He hadn't stopped staring since Italy had finished talking. His lips hadn't uttered a word, forced into silent shock by Italy's awful tale.

"Y-your kidding, right?" Romano finally said, his voice trembling slightly. He let out a nervous laugh. "Don't joke about things like that, Veneziano, it's...it's..." Italy shook his head vigorously, causing Romano to trail off into silence once again. How could Romano think this was a joke? Had he not sounded serious enough? Was his story really that unbelievable? A sob escaped from Italy's lips before silence shroaded the brother's once again. Not wanting to be left to his own thoughts, the ginger slowly lifted his tear filled eyes to meet Romano's disbelieving ones. Romano had gone pale white, his expression one of pure horror. His brown eyes were a mix of fear and confusion. His mouth hung open in shock. It looked like he was trying to formulate words but no sound came from his mouth.

"R-Romano?" Italy stammered.

"H-he really...did...that..." Romano said the words as a statement but Italy nodded anyway. The tears still trickled down Italy's cheeks.

"I-I always knew h-he was a perverted bastard but...to..." Romano shook his head, still not quite believing Italy's story. The younger furrowed his eyebrows worriedly. Romano was being very vague. The question was still nagging at the back of his mind but he wasn't sure whether to ask Romano straight out or not. He wasn't showing any signs to an answer, apart from still sitting opposite him, but...he needed to know.

"D-do...do you h-hate...me?" Italy's voice was merely a whisper as he asked the question. He had wanted his voice to come out stronger but it was still a trembling mess, just like him. His older brother gave him a look as though he was utterly stupid.

"You're joking _this_ time, right? O-of course I don't hate you, dammit. Y-your my brother..." Romano's voice trailed off but his eyes kept talking for him. Italy could see within them what Romano was trying to say but couldn't. He wasn't that sort of person. They were filled with sympathy and understanding. It made a small smile appear on Italy's lips, relief filling up inside of him. Thank god he didn't hate him. He didn't know what he would do if someone really did feel the way he dreaded.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone again. Romano's softened eyes hardened in an instant and his mouth became a thin white line. He slammed his hands to the table and stood up in a flash, the chair legs scraping along the floor making a horrendous noise. Anger pooled within his eyes.

"We can't let him get away with this! We have to do something! I can call Spain and-"

"NO!" Italy's shout rang out louder than he had intended. It made some of the people at nearby tables jump. He had grabbed his brother's hands in his urgency and gripped them tightly, as if to make his point that much stronger. "Please don't!" Fresh tears began flowing down his cheeks as he recalled what had happened to Germany when he felt the same way. He couldn't let the same thing happen to anyone else. He wouldn't let anyone else get hurt for him. He didn't care who it was, he wouldn't let any more causalities happen because of this...because of him. He didn't think he would be able to handle the guilt.

Romano gave him a confused look. "What do you mean? Don't you to get revenge on him...?" Italy shook his head forcefully.

"I-I don't w-want anyone else g-getting...getting hurt." Italy choked out, desperately trying to force back the sobs that were breaking through. He just had to get Romano to promise him he wouldn't seek revenge on...him.

Romano's confused expression simply grew worse at Italy's words, but he seemed to calm down a little as he slowly lowered himself down until he was seated again, drawing his hands out from beneath Italy's. He stared at the ginger, his head cocked to one side, his eyes filled with bewilderment and worry. Then something seamed to click inside of him. All the colour that had returned to his face suddenly drained out again. He looked terrified.

"A-anyone else? You mean...he's done this to someone else." Italy began to shake his head again but froze in the action, realisation shooting through him. The thought hadn't even begun to cross his mind. He had been so wrapped up in his own suffering that the idea that _he_ might have done this to someone else as well simply never occurred to him. France could have done the same thing to another person, a random innocent person on the street, and _they_ might not have been so lucky.

The mental image of France in a dark, shadow filled room filled his mind. He was in the process of buttoning up his crisp, white shirt, a sick, perverted smile on his face. Behind him, on a bed in the corner immersed in shadow, lay a trembling, naked victim, their innocence having been snatched away from them forever, their life always to be scarred and haunted by the memory of what just happened.

Italy squeezed his eyes shut and lay his head on his now trembling hands. Tears poured down his cheeks, never ending. The sobs he had been trying to hold back broke through, tearing at him with full force. He didn't care what people thought anymore. Let them stare. He just needed to cry.

"Veneziano...?" Romano's worry filled voice pierced into Italy. The ginger felt a comforting hand place itself on his shoulder. He let it remain there. "It'll be okay, you know." His voice sounded closer now. It was much softer, less angry, than usual. "I won't let him touch you...no one will. He deserves to burn in hell for he did to you, that fucking bastard."

Romano paused. Italy looked up at his brother, surprised by his comforting words. He was never this outwardly nice, especially to him. Their eyes met. Romano immediately turned his head away.

"But don't take that the wrong way, dammit! That doesn't mean...it doesn't mean I'm _always_ going to be nice to you...dammit" Italy simply smiled at his brother's blunt denial and watched his face turn bright red.

_Like a tomato, _he thought, knowing that was exactly what big brother Spain would say. He could never really deal with displays of affection very well. But it always made Italy grin madly when his brother _did_ compliment him or say something nice. Now was no exception. But he still had one more thing to say.

His tears having almost dried up, Italy was able to keep a completely straight as he leant forward towards his brother. He grabbed one of his hands and held it tightly so Romano couldn't snatch it away.

"Just...just please promise me that you won't go after...h-him," Italy pleaded. Romano stopped trying to pull his hand away for a moment and Italy him a confused look.

"You're not siding with Fr-"

"No, I'm not," Italy cut in, his voice sounding more confident than he felt now. "It's just...when you saw Germany, do you remember him having b-bruises on his face?" Romano finally managed to break his hand from Italy's grip. Italy leaned back in his chair and away from his brother, knowing he must be feeling slightly awkward now.

"Yeah...I remember. You're not really serious about him staying in our house, are you?" Italy eyebrows furrowed downwards, a frown settling on his face.

"Well...he got those bruises because he was...in a fight." Italy said, blatantly avoiding Romano's question. He didn't want to argue with him right now.

Romano smirked at Italy's comment. "Looks like that potato bastard got what was coming to him," he said, smugly. Italy tried not to get angry but it was getting hard to ignore Romano's spiteful comments towards Germany.

"It was with France." Romano went silent. The smug look instantly disappeared from his face and he stared at Italy blankly. The ginger nodded once, as if to answer an unsaid question. Guilt began to morph into Romano's face. He looked downwards to his fidgeting hands beneath the table. He didn't apologise though. He never did.

Italy sighed. "I-I just don't want anyone else getting hurt," he mumbled. "Promise me you won't go after...after him...or get anyone to go after him for you. Please." Silence enveloped to pair. Italy waited patiently for his answer, keeping his eyes on Romano at all times. His brother sighed and then nodded once. Italy smiled.

**OxOxO**

Italy knocked on the door, his heart fluttering in his chest. His palms were sweaty and he was fidgeting about anxiously. It wasn't like he hadn't done this before. It was the third night in a row but he was still nervous. He didn't understand it.

"Come in." Germany's voice echoed through the door. Italy opened it slowly and stepped inside. The blonde was sitting in his bed with his pyjamas on and a book in his hand. The only source of light was the small bedside lamp but it was still enough to illuminate the room. Germany had made himself very comfortable in Italy's guest room.

Upon Italy's arrival, Germany placed his book down, holding the page he was on as he did so, and looked up to Italy. The ginger lowered his eyes quickly, still fidgeting nervously.

"Germany...?" Italy began, the lump in his throat cutting off the rest of his sentence.

"Yes?"

"I-I...can I...can I sleep...in here again tonight?" Italy glanced up to Germany, his face burning red. The blonde had a small smile on his lips.

"Of coarse you can." Germany shuffled along a little, making space in the bed. A genuine smile immediately split across Italy's face. He bounded over and jumped onto the bed, snuggling himself down into the covers. He let out a sigh relief as his nervousness finally flooded out of him.

"I don't understand why you have to ask now," Germany said, carefully returning to his book. "You used to come into my room with a second's thought. You didn't even tell." The German man said the words very offhandedly but they Italy's stomach sink to his feet. His smile vanished immediatly. Germany was right; he never used to ask Germany if he could sleep in his room because he knew

Germany had never minded before when he came into his bed, right? But now...he wasn't so sure. What if Germany thought of him differently because of what happened? Italy buried his face into a pillow. Yet another thing that reminded him of...it. Everything did lately. He couldn't get it out of his head, the thoughts and memories constantly haunting him.

"Things changed," Italy said vaguely. He hoped that was enough for the blonde. He didn't want to elaborate anymore. He couldn't.

Silence enveloped the room, tension building up between them. Italy wanted to say something to break the silence but nothing came to mind. He lifted his face from the pillow and looked up to Germany. The blonde had a calm look on his face and was reading his book again. It made Italy's heart double in speed. He looked so amazingly hansom even in his pyjamas. He was so lucky to have someone like Germany in his life; as a friend and as a lover.

Italy suddenly had a huge urge to touch the German lying next to him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had edged closer to Germany so they were lying side by side. He wrapped his arms around Germany's muscular one and snuggled up to him, nuzzling the blonde's arm with his nose. It felt so nice.

"Ah, Ita-"

"I'm sorry about Romano today. He doesn't usually mean those things he says." Italy muttered the words into Germany's arm, enjoying the feeling to much to turn away. Italy heard Germany huff.

"I somehow doubt that," Germany murmured under his breath. It confused Italy, not knowing what he meant by it. He wasn't sure he had even heard it right. He turned his head upwards to take a better look at Germany. He was staring at his book intently but to Italy it didn't look like he was reading it. There was a thoughtful look on his face.

"Ve~? What do you mean?" Upon hearing Italy's words, Germany tore his eyes from the book. They landed on Italy and a small, understanding smile appeared on his face.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. He was the one who said those things. And anyway you managed to change his mind so it doesn't matter now." After this had been said, Italy rested his head on his pillow again, not taking his eyes from Germany. The blonde turned back to his book. Italy frowned.

"Yeah. I guess." There was a moment of silence. Germany turned a page in his book, folded the corner and closed it, before placing on the bedside table next to him. He turned to face Italy once again, a questioning look on his face.

"By the way, what did you say to Romano after you left? I assume you caught up to him." With Germany's sudden question out in the open, Italy suddenly felt really flustered. He turned his head away from the blonde while he thought of what to say. He didn't know why he was so uneasy all of sudden. He knew exactly what the answer was; he just didn't know how to word it.

"Well, I...um..." Italy paused, desperately trying to form a sentence from the flying mess of words and memories in his mind. "I-I managed to catch him up and calm him down. Then we went ate a meal at a restaurant. Ve~ it was so much fun! It's been so long since me and Romano ate together. I...I..." Germany gave Italy a critical look. The ginger laughed nervously, having realised he had been babbling again. He always did that. He took in a deep breath before speaking again, this time in a much lower tone. "I-I told him about...a-about what happened...with F-F-France," Italy mumbled, finishing his sentence with a deep sigh. A small smile appeared on his face. That was the first time in a while he had said France's name. He felt pride bubble up in side of him, if only for an instant.

"You told him? Everything?" Italy wasn't expecting the surprise that entered Germany's voice. His eyebrows furrowed downwards in confusion. Why wouldn't he tell his brother what happened? Sure he had been scared to do it – just like he had been scared to tell Germany – but that didn't mean he didn't want to. Romano had had a right to know. He was his big brother.

Although, technically, so was France...

Italy forced the idea from his mind, not wanting to think about it in any way. He looked up at Germany in an effort to distract himself and found the blonde staring down at him expectantly. Had Germany asked him a question? Oh yes, the one about him telling Romano.

Italy nodded quickly, trying to catch up with the situation. He often got lost in his own thoughts. "_Si_...I did," he said, defensively. Germany simply smiled, something glistening in his perfect blue eyes. Italy couldn't quite put his finger on it. But before he could find the answer Germany had moved. He lay down on his pillow beside Italy and turned so he was facing the Italian. He edged a little closer so that their faces were only inches apart. Italy cheeks burned bright red. His heart pounded in his chest. Germany took Italy's hands in his own.

"I'm proud of you Italy. You know that." The Italian cocked his head to the side.

"Ve~? Proud?" Italy asked, not really sure how Germany could be proud of him when he hadn't really done anything. Germany simply nodded, that small yet beautiful small still on his face.

"Of course. Y-you've been amazing this week, s-since you remembered. Y-you've dealt with it so well and...and..." Germany started to get flustered, loosing his words. His cheeks tinted pink and he quickly averted his eyes downwards. Italy's cheeks also blushed a deep red colour, flattered by Germany's words, but he didn't look away. Instead he edged closer to Germany, closing the previous gap separating them, and wrapped his arms around the blonde's torso. He wanted to give Germany some of his confidence back. He loved it when Germany said such sweet and nice things to him. It made his heart flutter in his chest.

"I couldn't have done it without you." Italy desperately wished he could show Germany how much he meant to him; how much he couldn't live without him. But...but...Italy buried his face into Germany's chest. It was just too hard.

**Yay! It's finally up. Man I'm really slow at writing. I almost did get this up. Stupid school getting in my way. Well here it is. Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed and everyone who is following! It's very much appreciated! **

**This fic is gunna finish soon (hopefully) there will only be few more chapters. I want to try and put up some other ideas I have for fanfics so it should be good!**

**Please review :) **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Shit Veneziano, just because I'm fucking away for like two seconds doesn't mean you can't look after the tomato garden. It's not even that fucking big. You're just too fucking lazy to bother-"

"You're mumbling to yourself again Roma~" Spain's voice called out, drifting over from across the garden. Romano growled. It was just like that stupid Spanish bastard to notice something like that. Romano hadn't even realised he'd been mumbling. The Italian stood, gardening trowel still in his gloved hands, and looked around for the Spaniard to give him a powerful glare. He found him standing a few metres away in another row of plants, watering them with the hose. Romano's eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't mumbling, dammit!" Spain glanced over to Romano and chuckled lightly.

"It's okay. I know you're angry at Ita-chan-"

"Too right I am. That bastard couldn't even spare a minute to see if the tomatoes were still alive. Well, now he'll have nothing to eat with his precious pasta!" Romano laughed cynically quite proud of insult. He folded his arms and looked at the pretty much saved tomato plant in front of him, a smug smirk twisting onto his face. His younger brother would just have to live without tomatoes on his pasta if he couldn't be bothered to look after the garden. They could eat sausages for dinner instead. They would all sit round the table, Germany, Veneziano and him and-

Romano's sneer faltered as he realised the flaw in his plan. He lived with his brother and if the lazy bastard didn't eat tomatoes then neither would he. Romano's usual frown quickly returned to his face.

"Well it's a good thing we came back to Rome or else your tomatoes would have perished ahahaha~" Irritation grated at Romano but he held it back, only shooting a serious glare to Spain's back. He crouched down beside another tomato plant and began vigorously tending too it. He was being too harsh to it, he knew, but he needed something to take his irritation out on and tomato plants tended not to complain. He picked a juicy, red tomato and threw it into basket beside him. It made a squelching sound as it landed on top of the other tomatoes in there. He searched around for another one similar to it but they had all been ruined. This just sizzled at his anger.

He didn't understand how Spain could find his tomato garden dyeing so funny. It was disgrace. And it was all his brother's fault. Lazy bastard. It really _was_ lucky Spain had suddenly decided to come to Rome though. A little longer and this place would have been Death Valley. Romano himself never would have thought of going. The Italian frowned at this thought, something bugging him about the way the sentence sounded. A question nagged at the back of his mind.

"Hey Spain, why _did _you want to come here anyway?" Romano asked, calling out so the Spaniard could hear him from where he was. He didn't turn away from tending the plants.

"Because I wanted to visit my lovely Roma's house of course~"

"Fuck!" The sound of Spain's voice directly behind him made Romano jump high in the air. His hand flew to his heart. It pounded in his chest at a hundred miles an hour. He stood up cautiously, still a little shaken, and wiped the dirt from his trousers before turning to the sneaky Spaniard. He glared at him suspiciously.

"You've been to my house hundreds of times bastard, now what's the real reason?" Romano stood in front of Spain, his arms crossed and questioning frown on his face. He tried to make himself look taller but it was futile against the Spaniard. He just tapped his foot impatiently instead. Spain turned to Romano and looked him in the eyes. Spain's green eyes seemed to waver for a moment, as if he was unsure whether answer the Italian's question or not. It made something flip in Romano's stomach. If Spain didn't want to tell him there must be a good reason. Spain told him everything.

When the Spaniard spoke next he averted his eyes from Romano's, returning them back to the plants below. "France called me over." Even though he said the words in an offhanded manner, they still pierced at Romano. The Italian stared at Spain in utter shock, his heart speeding up to twice its normal speed. But he didn't show it. He simply bent down to pick up the basket filled with tomatoes. His eyes caught sight of his trembling hands but he ignored it stubbornly.

"F-France? _He _called you over?" Romano asked as he straightened up again, trying to keep his voice steady. Spain nodded, persisting on staring at the tomato plants as he watered them. It frustrated Romano.

"Why?" he prodded, when Spain said nothing more. The Spaniard turned, finally, to look at Romano. He gave the Italian a weird, almost suspicious, look but it quickly vanished and was replaced by his usual smile. Romano wasn't sure if he had even seen it properly.

"Ahaha~ you won't believe it Romano! The other day, before we arrived here, Ita-chan ran away from a meeting...although you probably already knew that now that I think about it, you are his brother after all...unless...did you know-"

"Just tell the story, dammit!"

"Aha~ yes. Sorry about that. Well, France went out looking for him afterwards and he found him with Germany. Only when he tried to ask if Italy was okay, Germany attacked him." Spain paused for a moment to shake his head in disapproval. "I don't know why he did it, but when I saw France afterwards, all beaten up...it made me want to do worse to him." Spain's green eyes darkened intensely. The smile on his face became twisted and vengeful. Romano didn't have to be a genius to figure out what was going through Spaniard's mind. Something very dark indeed. Just give him his axe and it would be complete. Romano rarely saw this side of Spain but whenever he did it sent a cold chill down his spine. Although he knew Spain would never _actually _hurt him, he never wanted to be on the wrong side of him like this. Ever.

"W-worse?"

"Yeah...but that's not going to happen ahahaha~" The dark atmosphere was lost in a flash. Romano rolled his eyes, his momentary cold feeling vanishing in an instant. It was typical Spain to switch the mood without any warning. Romano sometimes had trouble keeping up with it...wait...what was it that Spain had just said? He wasn't going to do anything? Relief flooded through him, washing out his usual grumpy mood. No matter how much he disliked that German, potato-loving bastard, Veneziano still _did_ like him and...after all Germany had done for his little brother while he hadn't been there, he didn't deserve Spain's vengeance baring down on him. At least he didn't have to convince Spain not to do it now. That would have been a near impossible feat.

Romano let out a deep, thankful sigh but froze in the midst of it, a thought occurring to him. It wasn't like Spain just to give up on something like that, especially when it came to his friends. Something was up.

"Wait...it's not going to happen? Why the hell not?" Romano snapped, his grouchy personality seeping in again. He hadn't meant it to sound so forced but his words often came out like that. It made him sound impatient. Spain looked at Romano with a confused expression on his face. It leaked into eyes and into his smile.

"Roma? You want me to do it that bad?" Romano blinked in shock, utterly bewildered by Spain's words. How had he got that idea from what he said?

"Wha-! No..." Romano shook his head vigorously. "That's not what I meant...I just...well, I...just tell me, dammit!"

"Okay, okay. It's not happening because France already has a plan," Spain answered, once again in an off-handed voice. He returned to tending the tomatoes as he spoke, gently coating the ones near by with a spray of water. Something flipped inside Romano's stomach at the Spaniard's words. He swallowed the lump building up in his throat before speaking again.

"A p-plan? Involving what?"

"Aha, your curious today Roma~" Spain paused his watering for a moment to think about Romano's question. He looked up to the sky thoughtfully. "I think it's something to do with Ita-chan. Something about him and Germany. I offered to help France out with it but he said he had it all sorted out-" There was a load _thud_. Spain snapped his head in Romano's direction instinctively, a worried expression on his face. He saw the basket full of tomatoes splattered across the floor at Romano's feet. He saw the Italian's mouth hanging wide open. He saw the outright terrified look on his face. He took a worried step towards him.

"R-Romano?"

"He's going after Veneziano?"

"Yeah, but...Romano? Where are you going?" Spain's voice trailed off behind Romano. He didn't even realise he was running. He just needed to get there. He needed to find Veneziano.

**OxOxO**

Italy shook the hand of the hotel manager, a friendly, forced smile plastered on his face. The manager's handshake was firm and brisk and he quickly pulled away as soon as Italy let go. His expression was very serious and sombre. He hadn't even started to smile since Italy had arrived. The ginger couldn't deny that the man made him nervous, with his neat, business like vibe and serious face, but Italy had tried very hard not to show it. The Italian knew the man was growing tired of him, he had noticed it the first time they had met, but Italy needed to book this room. They needed somewhere to host the meeting.

"Wednesday at 1pm. Is that right Mr. Vargas?"

"Yes Mr. Rosi," Italy replied, trying to be as polite as possible. He was beginning to feel like Japan.

"Very well...shall I see you out, or...?"

"No, I'll be fine. Thank you anyway." The man simply nodded before walking hurriedly out of the room. Italy watched him go, his nervousness escaping him now the man had left.

The door closed. Italy stared at it for moment, debating whether to follow him or not, before slowly walking over to a window. He was enjoying the peaceful silence contained within the room. It felt like it had been an eternity since he could just relax on his own, be left to his thoughts...although, he knew exactly why. Before now he had been always been too scared to be on his own.

Italy gazed out of the window, watching the busy road several stories below. It was a hazy day, a huge contrast to the blinding sun of the day before, but the summer heat still pounded down with no sign of letting up. It was a shame the air conditioner didn't work in this hotel. Hopefully it would be fixed by the time the meeting came around. Italy yawned. The heat was making his lazy side come out. He needed a siesta.

The thought of a cosy bed and a working air conditioner spurred Italy to leave the hotel as soon as possible. He turned around, only to freeze as his eyes landed on the doorway. It was open now and a tall man was stood in it, leaning casually against the frame. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and shadow covered his most of face. But Italy could still see the smile on his face. It was this smile that made Italy's legs turn to rubber beneath him. This smile that made Italy forget how to breathe he was so petrified. This smile that made Italy's heart beat wildly out of control.

"F-F-F-"

"_Bonjour L'Italie._" The Frenchman stood upright and walked out of the doorway towards Italy. "I heard you would be here so I came. I wanted to talk to you." France stopped and turned around so his back was facing Italy. He gently closed the door. _Click. _Italy's stomach sank, dread settling at the bottom. His only exit was sealed shut.

"A-a-about w-what?" Italy stammered, his voice coming out no louder than a whisper. He groped behind him in a desperate, yet futile, effort to find a way out. His hand only slammed into the window. Maybe of he jumped out of it. It wouldn't kill him, would it?

"About Germany's little stunt the other day...the one where he _attacked _me for no reason at all." The anger and pure hatred France forced into the word made Italy flinch away. The smile on the Frenchman's face vanished for a moment as he said it, his eyes flaring up in rage as it did so, but he quickly forced it back on. But even as he smiled, Italy could still see the disgust written all over his face. It was clear that it wasn't a smile of joy but a smile of hatred.

Italy was trembling violently now. He desperately tried to think of a way to escape but his mind wouldn't think straight. It clouded over with panic, his pounding heart in his ears the only thing he could focus on. And the Frenchman in front of him.

France, upon seeing that Italy wasn't moving, casually strode forwards; closing the gap had been Italy's only salvation. The ginger pushed himself flat against the wall. France stopped, only a few feet separating the pair now. Italy could finally get a clear view of his face, the shadow having left it. It was riddled through and through with large, dark, purple blemishes. They covered almost every corner of his face. They looked painful, as though even a brush with a feather would cause unbearable pain. Italy stared at France in horror, the guilt once again beginning to tug inside of him.

"If you couldn't already tell, I was a little annoyed at him for it. I was thinking of a way I could get him back..."

The Frenchman suddenly leant forward and slammed his hands on the window so that one hand was on either side of Italy. He was trapped. There was no way out. Italy's breaths became short wheezy gasps and his heart pounded in his chest. Only one thing raced through his panic stricken mind; what was France going to do to him?

Italy's face was only inches from France's. The bruises now seemed to stare him accusingly. The rage in his eyes seemed more prominent than ever. France leaned further forward still. He passed Italy's face and pressed his lips right up to the ginger's ear.

"And there's one thought just kept coming to mind..." France's smooth voice whispered the words into Italy's ear, his warm breath blowing into it. The ginger cringed away as far as he could, but it wasn't far enough.

"N-no..." It was Italy could force out, the rest of the words getting lodged in his throat. He closed his eyes. Tears began falling from his eyes and streaking down his cheeks. He felt France's hand rest on his hip. Italy tried to pull away but it was no use. The hand stayed there for a moment before making its way round to Italy's butt. Italy gulped. There was no way out now. He was going to do it; here and now. Italy prepared himself for what was to come, praying to God that it wouldn't be that bad. He knew it would.

But suddenly, France's hand fell away.

Italy opened his eyes, forced into shock by what had, or hadn't, just happened. France was now standing a few feet away, having detached himself from the Italian. He was staring down at the ground, purposely admiring his feet as though he didn't want to look at Italy. Confusion sprouted up inside of him.

"That's just a taster of what I could do, but it could get a _lot _worse." France looked up to Italy's eyes, his face shrouded in darkness. His blue eyes were once again filled with hatred. The creepy smile had returned to his face. Italy cowered, any fear that had leaked from him before suddenly returning. "But there is one simple thing you can do for me and I will never touch you again." France paused. He stared at Italy expectantly. Italy nodded robotically. "If you will never speak to Germany again, I'll leave you alone. Don't acknowledge him. Don't even look at his disgusting face." France cupped his hand forcefully round Italy's face and lifted it upwards, making the Italian to look straight at him. "Do you understand me?" Italy nodded immediately. He didn't even think about what he was agreeing to, he just wanted France to leave and never touch him again. He would do anything to make that happen.

France let go, seeming satisfied with Italy's answer. He flashed Italy a genuine smile, to which Italy cringed away from. "_Bon!_"he said simply, before turning on his heel and heading for the door. "_Adieu L'Italie_."

He closed the door softly, leaving the Italian behind in a trembling, sobbing mess. He collapsed to the floor, his legs unable to support him as the relief swept through him. Tears of joy continued to trickle down his cheeks. But he couldn't cry here. He had to go to Germany, tell him about what had happened. He would comfort him. Germany...Germany...Italy froze as he finally remembered France's words.

What had he done?

**Man, I really make France so evil in my stories. I actually really like France but for some reason he always ends up being the bad guy in my story ideas. Oh well. Sorry to all those who love France .**

**Thanks everyone for the amazing reviews! Each one is really appreciated and we only need one more to make 40! Yay! Hope you enjoy. Pleace review :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Italy stood in front of the door. He stared at it, one hand raised above his head. It frozen in the action of knocking on the door, stuck there as though it had a mind of its own. He desperately tried to move it the last few inches to the door but it would respond. Why couldn't he just do it? One knock. That was all he had to do and then it would be over. That was, until Germany opened the door. Then he would have to talk to him, tell him, break his heart.

Italy shook his head vigorously, forcing the thought from his mind.

_Take it one step at a time, _he told himself, _just knock on the door. That's all._ Italy took a long breath to steady himself, closing his eyes for a moment and clearing his mind, before finally managing that single rap on the door he needed. Italy lowered his hand. He stared at the door, his stomach filling with regret as he heard the knock echo through the silent house. He wished with every ounce within him that the door wouldn't open. That no one would answer.

"Who is it?" Germany's muffled voice called through the door. Italy literally sank. Dread twisted and knotted his stomach, the sickening feeling inside of him of it doubling in strength. All his hopes of putting the inevitable conversation off until another day were cut off in an instant. Cut off so there was nothing left to latch onto. Italy could see himself falling, and falling, into the emptiness-

"I-it's me," Italy called out shakily, hoping his uneasy voice would carry through the door. He couldn't stop it from trembling. There was silence for a second, although it felt like an eternity for Italy, before Germany's footsteps became audible. Italy swallowed hard and blinked away the tears that had been prickling at the edges of his eyes. The door opened.

"Italy, this is your house. You don't need to knock." Germany said, staring down at Italy critically. The ginger blinked once and looked around the small area beside the front door, realising slowly seeping into his distracted mind.

"Ve~? This is my house, isn't it? Oops." Italy let out a nervous laugh, trying to relax the atmosphere, and himself, a little bit more. He strolled into his house a few steps, stopped and turned around to face Germany. The blonde was giving him a strange look, as if he had just done the stupidest thing in the world. Italy simply forced himself to smile in response, not wanting to hint Germany to what he was about to do. He had decided he would tell him now. He couldn't put it off any longer. He would tell Germany straight out, not dragging it out anymore than necessary. At least, that's what he hoped to do.

He watched Germany close the door but when the blonde turned his eyes to him he couldn't bare to look at them. He knew just the sight of those sparkling, blue eyes would make him collapse into a blubbering mess. Just one look at them and he wouldn't be able to do it.

"Italy? Are you okay?" Germany took a comforting step forwards. It made Italy's heart flutter. Germany was still being kind to him. His considerate nature was still shining through. It just made Italy love him even more. It wasn't fair. Every word that Germany said, every action he did made the Italian's resolution weaker and weaker. He took a step back and shook his head slowly, wanting to keep some distance between them. He continued to stare downwards, anxiously fiddling with his hands. They were beginning to get sweaty.

"T-there's s-something...something I n-need to tell...y-you..." The lump in Italy's throat made him trail off into silence. He hated the unsteadiness of his voice. He hated the obvious guilt and fear that leaked into it.

"What is it?" Germany's voice was soft and reassuring. It pierced Italy's heart. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"G-G-Germany...y-you have to leave." Italy sniffed, desperately trying to force back the tears pricking at his eyes.

"Leave-?"

"Leave. G-go and never come back...well... not never, but..." Italy inhaled in a long, shaky breathe. "I-I don't think we s-should b-be in a...a...r-relationship...a-anymore..."

The silence was unbearable. The entire house was so quiet it made Italy's ears hurt. All that could be heard was Italy's shaky, uneven breathing and his pounding heart. He wanted to look up, to see what Germany's expression was, to see how Germany felt – as he wasn't saying anything – but he knew he couldn't. The guilt was tearing him up inside enough as it was. He wouldn't be able to take it. But...just to see Germany's sweet, beautiful face one last time was enough of a reason...right?

Italy's internal struggle lasted as long as the silence did; he'd lost count of its length hours ago. He fought with himself until Germany finally spoke up.

"I-I...you...b-but ...No!" Germany's voice broke on the last word. Italy flinched away at the pure pain that lay in the words he said. Guilt ate away at the edges of him, stronger than ever. He didn't know how much longer it would be before he snapped.

"I...I j-just...d-don't think...we can't be together!" Italy's words came out louder than he intended but he didn't know how else to say the words. If he said it any other way he break down into a mass of sobs and tears, guilt tearing away at him from the inside – not that that wasn't happening anyway – but he had make Germany believe. Other wise France would...would...Italy shuddered at the memory.

"Italy..." Germany's voice was a tortured whisper now. He stepped forward and, before Italy could react, suddenly grabbed the Italian by the shoulders. "I don't understand!" Germany yelled at him. Italy didn't resist. He didn't even flinch away. He deserved to be treated like this. Germany's shouts should have been louder. They should have been angrier.

"I...I thought...y- you said you...loved m-me." Italy's heart froze. He opened his eyes, every cell in Italy's body drowning in guilt. He looked up. Italy's chocolate brown, shame filled eyes met with Germany's shining, blue ones. He almost burst into tears right at that moment. Hurt was the only emotion that danced in the blondes eyes. The pure agony and torture in his facial expression was more than Italy could bear. What had he done? Germany was completely broken and it was all his fault. He couldn't lie to him. Not when he was like this.

"I...I do," Italy muttered, desperately trying to turn away from Germany's burning eyes. He couldn't take it. He just needed Germany to leave before he did anything stupid. He opened mouth, about to ask Germany to go, when the blonde suddenly lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Italy's torso. The unexpected hug left the Italian in a state of shock.

"I-I don't understand...if you l-love me then...then why...?" The words were muffled, his face buried in Italy's shoulder. He could feel Germany's tears sliding off his face and seeping into his top. They stung a little; Italy couldn't bear it to know Germany was crying, especially when it was him who had caused it. But at least he didn't have to see it. He knew it sounded selfish but the idea of seeing Germany cry was the most awful on earth. He looked up to the ceiling. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

"I...I can't." The ghostly whisper escaped his lips. He couldn't say it any louder, his voice wouldn't let him. "I c-cant t-tell-"

There was a click. Italy turned his head just in time to see the front door open. A scowling and flustered Italian older brother was at the doorway, muttering and cursing to himself. Italy felt the strong arms around him release suddenly. He glanced over to the German. He was several steps away again, his head bowed and his unusually messy, blonde hair draping over his face so Italy couldn't his eyes. When had his hair gotten so messy?

"Veneziano!" Italy jumped at the sound of his voice being called. Romano slammed the door shut and stormed up to him. "Where the fuck have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere, dammit!" Italy cowered away from his brother's angry voice. It took a second for the actually words to sink in for him.

"Ve~ you have? Why...?" Italy noticed how distant his voice sounded. It was because he was having trouble focusing on his grouchy brother. His eyes kept being drawn to the German standing beside him. He was slumped against a wall with his hands in his pockets, apparently waiting for his rude brother to leave so they could carry on with their conversation. Italy like the way he was stood. It was slouchy and sad, as if he had given up on the world already.

"What did France do to you?" Italy snapped back to reality at the mention of the Frenchman's name. He blinked and stared at his brother's worried expression, not comprehending the question he asked.

"Ve...? I thought I already told you..."

"No! Not the thing you already told me, dammit!" Romano grabbed Italy's shoulder and began shaking him vigorously. "He's done something else, within the last day, something to get revenge on Germany." Italy felt the blood drain from his face. He glanced over to Germany. He was standing upright, staring straight at Italy, obviously intrigued by Romano's words. How could he have said that? He was going to everything! F-F-France was going to get him...unless Romano never found out.

The Italian laughed nervously, shaking his brother's hands off and waving his own trembling one dismissively at him.

"I-I don't know w-wha-"

"Don't lie to me, dammit! I've fucking known you longer that anyone now just tell me what he did." Romano huffed, shoving his hands on his hips. He gave Italy an angry glare and tapped his foot impatiently. Italy's mind went completely blank. He glanced up to Germany again. What could he say? He couldn't tell the truth. Not while Germany was here.

"I-I...how d-do you even know-"

"Spain told me." He answered quickly. The grumpy Italian obviously saw right through Italy's stalling methods. Italy gulped. The pressure was getting to him. He could feel the tears begging to shed. Italy had to push them back as he desperately tried not to give in. He avoided Romano's piercing eyes, lowering his own to watch his nervously fiddling hands. What could he say?

"Err-"

"Italy? W-what is he talking about? Did France do something...?"

It was Germany's voice that cracked him. Germany's voice that made him melt into a blubbering mess, tears bursting from his eyes and streaking down his cheeks. He collapsed to his knees, placing his face in his hands and crying into them. The sobs wouldn't stop coming.

"I...it...he... touched...and... tried... Germany..."The words just came blabbering out from Italy's and he knew no one would understand it. He felt a hand place itself on his shoulder but he couldn't tell whose it was. He was shaking too hard to focus on anything. The memory of the incident wouldn't leave his mind. It was burnt into the back of his brain, forever torturing him the images.

He didn't know how long it was before he had calmed down enough to make coherent sentences. Germany and Romano had for once joined forces and had been muttering comforting words as Italy had sobbed his heart out.

"H-he... he threatened m-me. He said...if...if I-I didn't...b-break up... with Germany...I...h-he would..." Italy swallowed hard, choking back another set of sobs. "He w-would do... r-rape... m-me..."

Silence hovered in the room; the only sounds were Italy's occasional sniffles. It made Italy all the more terrified at having told them the truth. They would hate him for sure. Hate him for letting France do that, for going along with the plan. What had he done? He was a complete failure. It was Romano who dared to speak first. When his voice came out, it sounded shaken, forced into a state of shock by his news.

"You...he r-really did that?" Italy looked up to his brother. He was knelt in front of the trembling Italian, his face ghostly pale and his eyes wide and staring. The ginger nodded solemnly. Romano sucked in a sharp breath.

"Fucking...bastard..." Romano was literally shaking, the rage rolling off in waves. Italy flinched away at the pure anger and hatred in his words. He had never seen his brother this angry before. He cowered away from him.

"Nii-chan...?" Romano was standing in an instant. His eyes narrowed and flared in up in fury.

"Fucking pervert! How could he fucking do that? I'm going to find him and pound his fucking smug face to dust like a fucking-"

"Romano," Germany said in stern voice. He placed a hand on Romano's shoulder but the Italian immediately shoved it off. Germany simply sighed. "Getting angry and going after him isn't going to help. Trust me." Germany paused for a moment, glancing over to Italy. There eyes locked for a second and relief filled the ginger nation. Although his eyes were red from the tears, the pain and torture had evaporated from them. They sparkled again, not with happiness but Italy didn't care. He wasn't sad anymore and he wasn't angry with Italy. It was like he was floating on air. He couldn't help but smile despite everything.

"We have to do something! We can't just fucking stand back let him get away with it!" Romano snapped, his voice getting louder and louder. Italy stood up slowly, his shaking violently but still prepared to run away as soon as his brother turned on him.

"Y-you really don't-"

"We should confront him," Germany butt in, ignoring Italy's protests; he really didn't want to go after France after what happened last time. "But not violently."

"WHA-"

"Just listen. We should confront him with his friends, everyone he knows, and tell them all what he did. We'll turn everyone against him so he has no one in the world. Then we'll get him." Germany slammed a fist on his hand for effect. Italy flinched away. He didn't like look in the blonde was getting in his eyes. It sent shivers down Italy's spine.

"I don't know," Romano said, obviously sceptical of Germany's plan. "I think it would be better just to go up to him and punch him in the face."

"Well look how far that got me." Germany pointed to his face as his example. Italy cringed as the memory came flooding back to him. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone?

"T-true..."

"We should go now. The sooner the better, right?" Romano thought it over for a moment. Italy looked at him, desperately wishing him to say no. They shouldn't be doing this. He couldn't let them get hurt again because of him. He had to say something...but what?

"Okay." Romano nodded they both headed for the front door.

"W-wai-"

"Come one Veneziano, you have to come too." Italy froze, dread settling at the pit of his stomach.

"M-me? But...why?"

"It would be more convincing if you were there to confirm the story." Germany spoke this time. Italy turned to him with pleading eyes.

"B-but..." Romano leaned forward and grabbed Italy's wrist, dragging him against his will through the door and from the house. Italy didn't have the will to struggle. It had all seamed from him in the last few days.

"Don't worry." Germany said as they headed down the streets of Rome. "We won't let him hurt you."

Italy gulped.

**I finally got it up guys. Sorry its kinda short. I had a lot to deal with in the last few weeks (eg. Mocks exams) but it should go back to normal next time. Also I'm writing another fanfic at theh same time for my friend for Christmas so I have to write that too.**

**I sense this fic is coming to an end soon. Unfortunately I'm really not sure how to end it. Any one have any ideas? Should they get revenge on France? Suggestions please :)**

**Thank you everyone for reviewing. They make me so happy! Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Germany spotted him as soon as he entered the room. He stood out from the crowd, his long, blonde hair and ostentatious clothes impossible to miss in any setting. The dining room of the hotel was no exception.

The Frenchman saw him as well. Their eyes locked and a smug, wicked smile wormed its way onto his face. He took a prolonged sip of wine before placing it back onto the table with care and giving a small wave to the men at the doorway.

It made Germany's blood boil. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the Frenchman maliciously. How could that bastard be so smug after what he had done? He had tried to break apart him and Italy, tried to tear him away from the love of his life. But then again, what did he expect? Other people's feelings probably meant nothing to him. He would just play mindlessly with them, like a cat playing with its prey before devouring it. Germany's hand twitched. What he wouldn't give just to punch him one more time, to knock that creepy smile from his face.

Germany's feet were moving before he could even think about it, the anger in him beginning to sizzle up and over the edge as he marched towards the table. He gained control of himself quickly though. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him here.

France's eyes widened dramatically when he spotted Germany, his smile vanishing and his skin paling to a pasty white colour. Fear flashed within his eyes but never quite reaching his expression. His face remained an emotionless mask. He simply placed his wine glass on the table and rose slowly from his chair, keeping himself tense and alert, his eyes never leaving the German.

Germany came to a halt in front of the table, crossing his arms in a defensive manner. The footsteps that had been following him ceased as well. Italy and Romano had been one step behind him all the way here, arguing and talking between themselves. Germany had ignored them most of the way, only glancing back to check on them every now and then.

Germany looked up and his eyes locked with France's again in a vicious glare, the spot of enjoyment he felt at the man's fear being hidden under the rolls of anger. Germany couldn't help but notice the purple bruises that streaked across the Frenchman's face. They looked painful; more painful than his own, even after a few days of healing. Germany repressed a smile. At least the fight had been worth one thing. The Frenchman held his gaze for a moment before flickering his eyes to Romano and then Italy. They seamed to linger on the ginger nation an instant longer. Germany tensed up, taking a cautious step in front of Italy protectively. France's focus returned to him swiftly.

"Germany." France's voice was the first to snap the tense silence, his shakiness and nerves slipping into the word. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to...talk." Germany snuck a glance in Italy's direction. The Italian was gripped tightly to the back of Germany's shirt, trembling violently with terror. His face buried into Germany's back. It physically hurt him to see Italy like this. He shouldn't be like this. He should and be happy and innocent; like he had been before...France deserved everything that was coming to him.

"West..." The sound of Prussia's torn, ashamed voice cut into Germany. His eyes widened and glanced over to his brother. The albino was sitting beside France with Spain to his other side. They had obviously been chatting before Germany came over. Prussia simply looked at him, disappointment filling his eyes. "You shouldn't have come here." The words were no louder than a whisper but the shame heavy within them got to Germany. A different sort of sadness engulfed his heart. The memory of his and Prussia's last meeting filled his mind and the hurt he had felt came flooding back to him. The Prussian turned his head away but the look was still pasted into Germany's mind. He had never seen his brother look at him that way before. It wasn't right. He would feel so glad when everyone finally knew the truth.

France's smug, perverted voice cut through the silence once again, answering Germany's previous question.

"Oh, so you're ready to have a civilized conversation today Germany, _oui?_" A smug smile tugged at the corners of France's lips. Germany ground his teeth together. He clenched and unclenched his fists. His self control was hanging by a thinner thread with every word that left France's mouth. "What would you like to talk about then? About why you _attacked_ me perhaps?" France spat the final words, his anger obviously getting the better of him too.

"Romano, you should come sit over here, next to Boss," Spain's voice interrupted the conversation, immediately destroying the tense atmosphere that had built up. France let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"What! No!" Romano shouted, his cheeks turning bright red.

"Why not?" Spain asked, a confused expression dominating his face. France shot the Spaniard a dangerous glare which the Spaniard received fully, glancing around the gathering and realising what he was interrupting. He mumbled an apology and France turned back to Germany, anger still flaring in his eyes, stronger than ever.

"Well?"

"You know why I'm here, France. You threatened Italy." The anger in France's eyes dimmed at Germany's words, disappointment and annoyance filling them up. But his expression still remained indifferent.

"Threaten? I don't know what you mean, _Allemagne._" His voice was silky smooth, manipulative. He glanced over to Italy once again. Germany felt the ginger cower behind him as the icy eyes lay upon him.

"Don't play stupid, you molesting bastard!" Romano suddenly cut in, slamming his hand hard on the table. Both Spain and Prussia leapt into the air. "We know what you did my brother." His voice shouted out full of anger across the room, attracting the attention of people on the tables nearby. Some of them were countries.

"Molesting?" Prussia asked, laughing dismissively at the idea. Germany felt his heart squeeze. Why wouldn't his brother simply believe him?

"I wouldn't call it _molesting _as such." France began, a small, smug smile appearing on his mouth once again. He lazily picked up his wine glass and took a long sip. "I was just showing Italy some of my more..._caring_ qualities" Germany was conscious of the trembling Italian behind. He was conscious of group of people now watching the conversation that was taking place. He was conscious of how everyone saw him as the bad guy because they didn't know the full story. It was these three things only that kept Germany from leaping at the perverted Frenchman and attacking with all his strength. It didn't stop the anger from bubbling inside of him though, creating a haze around him of pure rage.

"You tried to fucking rape him," Romano spat, shocking Germany a little; Romano could be very blunt when he wanted to be. His words forced everyone into a shocked silence. They stared at Romano, wide eyed.

"I-I think that's a little bit of over exaggeration, isn't it?" France eventually choked out, laughing breathlessly at the absurdity of it. He glanced nervously around to Spain and Prussia .They just stared at France, confused.

"No. That's exactly what you did." Romano's resolution didn't waver. He stood firm, arms folded, glaring angrily at the Frenchman.

"I-I didn't go that far. It was just a little...touching," France stammered, shock plastered across his face. "I wasn't really intending to go through with it-"

"You actually threatened to _rape _Italy!" Spain yelled, the dreaded word echoing loud around the room. France desperately egged him to keep his voice down but it didn't stop the people in the tables near by falling dead silent. All eyes centred on France, critical and judging, just as Germany had planned.

"Like I said, I wasn't actually going to do it. I-I was just t-teasing, trying to get him to do what I wanted."

People listened intently to France's panicked words of defence, the lies he threaded to try to escape from everything. No one looked convinced. His words were like wind against a brick wall; useless.

"We mean when he was younger. When you _actually _tried to rape him then, but he got away before you could," Germany stated firmly. He felt Italy flinch behind him, obviously not wanting to remember.

"What the hell are you talking about?" France spat, anger flaring up in his eyes once again at the accusation. He was denying it, trying to look like he was completely innocent. Germany's eyes narrowed.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm taking about. You tried to rape him. You almost did, but Italy managed to escape before you did anything...worse." Germany glanced to the trembling Italy behind him. He was staring up at Germany, his chocolate eyes glassed over from his tears. They were filled with fear and hurt but the German saw the thankful look that he was giving him. It only made Germany anger more ferocious. They both turned to see the Frenchman staring at them with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. He began to laugh.

"He's making up stories just for an excuse to hate me now. Of course I wouldn't _actually_ try to rape Italy. He is simply too pure and innocent for that ohonhon-"

"You're lying!" All eyes went to Italy. The shaking Italian had stepped out from behind Germany and shouted the words with nothing but anger in his voice. France blinked at him, obviously shocked by Italy's sudden outburst. "You did do it! I came round your house, ages ago, because I hadn't seen you in a long time. I was living at Austria's house at the time but I-I wanted visit you. We were talking... we were talking and you jumped on me. You tried to... tried to... " Italy trailed off, being immediately replaced by short, wheezing breaths. His skin was ghostly white and his hand groped at his chest, where his heart was. He had to use Germany as a balance to stay upright. Germany instinctively wrapped his arms around Italy, holding him tight to support him and not caring what anyone else thought. He was so proud of him. He had stood up to France, spoken out against him like he should have done along time ago. He was so brave and-

There was a smash. It cut through Germany's thought and he immediately turned to the noise. On the floor small, jagged pieces of glass were sprayed out everywhere dangerously. A pool of red liquid was in the centre of the debris, spreading slowing across the floor and staining the perfectly clean carpet. It was wine.

"Oh...y-you mean that," France stammered out. Germany looked up to him. He was staring at them, eyes wide in pure shock. A smug smile crept its way onto Germany's lips.

"Oh, so you remember now, _ja_?" France glanced to his friends nervously, almost pleadingly. They were just stared at him in shock and disappointment.

"I-I-"

"And you admit to it too?" Romano cut in, the same smile as Germany's dominating his face. The two shared a knowing look. They had him now. He was done for.

"I-I... it's just..." He was failing, struggling for a life line when nothing was there, sinking to the depths of the ocean and there was no bottom.

"You... you sick..." Prussia looked like he couldn't even say the words he was so angry. France gave him a pleading look.

"Please... I-" Prussia stood up in a flash, silencing France in an instant. He obviously didn't want his stammering begs. He walked away, only stopping as he passed Germany. He looked up to him.

"I'm sorry I doubted you West." Germany nodded once in understanding. Prussia thumped him on the back before walking out of the room altogether. He didn't even look at France.

Spain followed suit soon after. He looked at France and shook his head in disgust. "How could you? Especially to Italy..." Spain left the words hanging. He strode from the room with out a single look about. Romano swiftly followed after him.

Germany looked to France with not a single drop of pity in him. He deserved this. He deserved every bit of torture he got. The tables around had heard, tables containing countries like England and America and Japan. They would tell other countries and they would tell others. Soon the whole community would know. And he would be shunned, forever isolated and alone from the only ones that he could hold close in the world.

"If you ever fucking touch Italy again, I will tell the world. I'm not sure how happy your boss would be about this news, would he?"

Germany didn't give France a chance to answer. He left the question hanging, leaving it to fester and torture the Frenchman indefinitely. He unwrapped himself from Italy and dragged the Italian from the room as quickly as possibly.

Leaving France alone. Forever.

**Ok, first, I'm so so so sorry this is late. It's the penultimate chapter and I wanted to get it done right. Plus I had a massive writers block AND it's almost Christmas so I had a lot to do. **

**I got to 50 reviews! I'm so happy. So I've decided I'm going to give a gift for being the 50****th**** reviwer (I saw someone do this on another story and I thought it was really nice). Kisa2012, as a present for being the 50****th**** reviewer, you get any gift you want. ****I can write a giftfic for you, anything you want, I can review one of your stories, I can review all of your stories, you just name it. And the rest of you, thanks so much for all your support. It's really appreciated!**

**I also must say, I'm gunna update in a week this time (on Sunday) because it will be a short chapter and I will have lots of time to write it because it's the holidays! :D **

**I just realised this will be the last update of the year so MERRY CHRISTMAS or HAPPY HOLIDAYS and a happy new year. Please review. It can be your Christmas present to me ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

_Several months later_

Autumn. The season where the colour orange seamed to take over everything. The leaves on the trees would transform, exploding in a display of fiery colours, reds, yellows and orange invading the landscape and making the world magical, if only for a second. The warm summer days morph into brisk, chilly evenings that nip at you until you are forced to head inside to the warm, orange fire. The days grow shorter, the night closing in on you earlier and earlier every day that passes. Soon the night would take over completely, casting its spell over the world before they had even finished the day's work. But for now they could enjoy the in between, the time when you could be coming out from your place and look over the horizon to see the sun setting, flaring in a blaze of orange and yellow and as the bright orb sinks into the earth.

But the change happens gradually, so you didn't even realise it. It would slowly shift from summer to autumn as the months passed and before you know it the leaves were falling from the trees again. It was like this for Italy. The initial pain and terror that the memory had brought had become reasonably bearable as the months had passed – although he would still break down into raging sobs and tears occasionally – and eventually had become numbly buried under his life as it was now. He just wanted to forget. He didn't want to have to ever think about it again. But he still had to remember. After all, look at the catastrophe it had caused when he had forced himself to forget the last time.

**XoXoX**

Berlin was a pleasant city. It was a little chilly, Italy had to admit, but the atmosphere was nice. The orange greenery was scattered everywhere, giving the city a lovely feel to it. The people were great as well, very welcoming and friendly to an obvious tourist like himself. It was with their help – and the help of his dictionary – that he managed to find the small cafe he and Germany had arranged to meet at. They sat inside it now, staring silently out the window at the German people passing by. But Italy had his eyes on only one German.

"Three months...?" Germany muttered the words to himself, staring out the window thoughtfully with his rested in his hand. Italy couldn't help but smile. He looked so handsome with that thoughtful look on his face.

"Huh?" Italy asked vaguely, absentmindedly wondering what Germany was thinking about. The blonde turned towards him, blue eyes shining brightly. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"I was just thinking... You know it's only been three months since our last meeting? It feels like years after everything that happened." His voice was distant, detached, even though he was staring straight at Italy. The Italian blushed a little under his firm gaze.

"Yeah, that's true." Italy paused and lay a hand on Germany's, squeezing it as he spoke. "But I couldn't have done it without you... Thank you, for being there. It meant everything to me." Germany's eyes widened and he turned his head away. The rosy red tint that entered his cheeks made Italy smile widely.

It felt so good to finally say those words. He had been meaning to say them for so long, to show Germany how he truly felt, how much he appreciated the blonde always being there to protect him, to comfort and hold him when he needed it most. How much he loved him for not making his worst fears come true. He had been meaning to say those words for so long but now he had finally managed to, the words didn't seam like enough. He had so many more feelings, feelings that made his heart feel like it would burst, but he just couldn't put them into words.

"You know I could never leave your side, no matter _what_ happens." Italy's cheeks burned bright red. His heart fluttered in his chest and his words stuttered as tried to form words in reply. But before he could speak, Germany leant forward and gently, chastely, kissed Italy's lips. They felt warm and soft against his own and Italy quickly melted into it.

Italy and Germany had kissed little over the passed few weeks but when they had they had been sweet, blissful treasures. The problem was, whenever anyone touched Italy in... that way all the awful memories overloaded his mind. But Germany had been patient, thank heaven, only kissing him every so often and never letting them get too intense. It was yet another Italy would be eternally grateful for.

But lately, Italy had found to, while he was kissing Germany, make his mind turn completely blank, forcing all thoughts out and letting the pure smell and feeling of Germany's lips against his own fill him up. It worked, up to a point.

The sound of the café door opening shattered their perfect moment. Germany quickly pulled away, glancing around him to see if anyone was looking. Italy giggled. Germany was so cute when he acted shy like this.

The waiter came over and took their order; two coffees, a frankfurter with potato salad and tomato soup ("Ve? They don't serve pasta?") He barely looked at them and, when he had to speak, his voice was monotonous and bored. Obviously costumer service wasn't on the man's top priority. But he swiftly left and they were alone once again.

"I missed you," Italy muttered, never taking his eyes off the blonde. Germany averted his own, concentrating on drinking his coffee, but his small smile and pink cheeks told Italy he appreciated it.

"We were only apart for a week, Italy," Germany answered, critically.

"Ve~ That doesn't mean I can't miss you." Germany looked up over his coffee, his shining blue eyes locking with Italy's. They stared at each other, wanting the moment to last for ever. The feeling of perfect understanding and harmony washed over Italy, filling him up until he was ready to burst. But it all shattered instantly as someone coughed from beside them.

Germany tore his eyes away first, much to Italy's disappointment. He looked to the man who had interrupted them, a slightly annoyed look on his face. But as his eyes landed on the man his expression quickly morphed, anger and hatred leaking into his face. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

Italy dared a peak to the person, not really wanting to see what made Germany so angry, but he immediately understood as his eyes lay on the blonde Frenchman standing beside them. Italy froze, suddenly caught in the terror that took hold of him. He tried to ignore the sound of his rapidly beating heart pounding in his ears, tried to gain control of himself, but the fear running through was too much. Even after all these months, he still had the desperate urge to bolt from the café as fast as he possibly could. But he stayed seated, gripping onto the table in an effort to keep himself where he was.

France was wearing a hat, something that was rarely seen on him, one that made him look like a spy from an American movie. But the rest of him was still his self, the ostentatious outfit, the silky blonde hair. It sent a shiver down Italy's spine. His face was sombre though, utterly serious. His eyes were dull, the usual sparkle within them having been dimmed until it was barely visible. He stared straight at Italy.

He didn't know why, but as soon as Italy saw France's cold eyes the fear that had gripped him so strongly not minutes ago melted away. It didn't vanish completely, his heart still pounded out of control in his poor chest, but it died down enough for him to be able move from his frozen position.

"Italy," France greeted, the flat voice not sounding right coming from France's lips. He didn't look at Germany. He didn't even acknowledge him.

"What do you want?" Germany spat, everything about him giving off a threatening aura. France didn't seam deterred in the slightest. He simply turned to Germany, slowly, his face a mask of pure boredom.

"Don't worry Allemagne, I am not here to hurt anyone." France said, although he didn't sound like he was trying to comfort Germany at all.

"You're hurting people just by standing here." There was a moment of tense silence at the table. The sound of other people's voices in the café floated over as mumbling background noise. France just stared at Germany, the surprise on his face clearly evident. But why was he surprised. Surely he must have expected Germany's anger after everything that had happened. Why wouldn't he?

The silence was broken as France let out a long, frustrated sigh. He turned back to Italy, the bored look returning to his face, and spoke the next words directly to him, as though Germany hadn't even said anything. Italy furrowed his eyebrows at France's rudeness.

"I have come here to say one thing to you and then I will take my leave. I did _not _come here to fight." France glanced over to Germany with narrowed eyes. Italy nodded shakily, willing himself to hear what France had to say. The Frenchman smiled, a small thankful smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He took his hat off, holding it against his chest, before he spoke. When he did, his voice was small, pitiful. He sounded as though he had suffered through years of torture.

"Thank you, for hearing me out. I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now but...I just wanted to say...it's just..." France trailed off, his mouth hanging open silently. He seamed to be having a hard time saying what he wanted. He drew in a deep breath, as if to steady himself. "I-I...I wanted to apologise." His eyes locked with Italy's. His expression was completely serious. "I'm sorry, for what I did. It wasn't right...forgive me, _mon ami._"

France silenced himself, sensing from the tense atmosphere that he should keep his apology as short as possible. He lowered his eyes, and his head, so that Italy could longer see the dull emotions within them. But the ginger didn't need to look into his eyes to see the shame written on his face. It made the knot twist itself tighter in Italy's stomach.

France's desperate words rang in Italy's ears. Italy couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't understand. France had just apologised to him, for everything he had done. He was asking for his forgiveness. I had never occurred to Italy that France might apologise. But...why now? Why after everything? Italy didn't want an apology. Unless France had the ability to turn back time, he didn't want anything from him. How could he think that Italy would just say _Yeah, it's alright. You tried to rape me, but I don't mind _after everything that had happened? And what if it he didn't mean it? What if it was just for show? Their revenge on France didn't need a sincere apology. All he had to was say the words 'I'm sorry' and people would believe he deserved their friendship again. It would all have been for nothing.

Italy gulped and clutched at Germany's hand. He felt the blonde's strong fingers wrap around his own. Italy opened his mouth to answer but only silence came out, the lump in his throat blocking his voice. He quickly lowered his eyes to his and Germany's linked hands. It gave him confidence. As long as he had Germany everything would be fine. He took a deep breath, readying himself, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I-I...I don't think I c-could ever f-forgive you."

As the words flowed from Italy's mouth, he felt more and more certain about them. He felt as though wings had sprouted from his back and lifted him until he was light as air. The relief he felt just to say those words, to make them real, was incredible, more than he would have ever thought. And he didn't feel bad for saying them; that was what surprised him the most. He thought for sure that he would feel guilty, the idea of never forgiving someone for something had never seamed possible to him before. But now...

Italy looked up, nervous that nothing was being said. France wasn't looking at Italy; he was staring out the window behind them. He didn't look surprised, Italy thought he would have been, but instead he simply looked sad, disappointment pooling in his eyes. A small smile was on his face, one that Italy could not describe nor explain why it was there. It simply was. But as France's eyes landed on Italy once again it vanished.

"Very well," he muttered, the disappointment clear in his voice. He placed his hat on his head again and, for the first since the Frenchman entered the cafe, Italy noticed how much his hat concealed his face. "_Adieu, l'Italie." _

And with that, France turned and left the cafe.

As Italy watched the Frenchman go, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity. The man had no one, not a friend in the world. And it was all their fault. They had forced him into isolation...but then the memories came flooding back, and the feeling was gone.

Maybe one day he would forgive France, one day years in the future, although he had the feeling he would forgive him before Germany. His friends would forgive him too, the ones he and Germany had turned against the Frenchman, probably sooner; France's actions hadn't affected them directly. All they had to do was judge, look down upon him and condemn him, rightly, on what he had done. But Italy could say with fair certainty that France would not be alone forever. It may be years, even decades, in the future but his isolation would eventually come to an end.

Italy slowly turned back to the tall, handsome, strong, kind, amazing, _perfect_ blonde in front of him and smiled.

_As long as he had Germany_, he thought, knowing as he did that it was the complete truth, _everything would be alright._

**It's finally finished! I'm so happy! I can't believe how much support this story got it's so amazing. Thank you to everyone who read and everyone who reviewed and to everyone who supported this story. I'm really really grateful. And I'd like say thanks to My dear fangirl and Light4fire for reviewing lots. Everyone made me so happy. Thanks everyone.**

**Also I want to say a big big big thanks to my friend Grace. She read through every one of my chapters before I posted them up and without her I probably wouldn't have posted it up in the first place. Thank you!**

**Now I can focus on the other fanfic ideas I have. Bye everyone!**


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